It's All Coming Back To Me Now
by ravenbard
Summary: Part 3 of The Rift Trilogy. Follows 'I Fall Without You' and 'When You're More Than A Memory.' Shaken by Eric's ominous warnings about Pam, Tara takes off for London. But what will she find when she gets there?
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** It's All Coming Back To Me Now

**RATING:** M for angst, violence, angst and language

**PAIRING:** Pam/Tara

**SYNOPSIS**: Part 3 of The Rift Trilogy. Follows 'I Fall Without You' and 'When You're More Than A Memory.' Shaken by Eric's ominous warnings about Pam, Tara takes off for London. But what will she find when she gets there?

**DISCLAIMER:** True Blood and it's wacky characters do not belong to me so don't sue; I'm pretty poor and I have nothing of value.

**A/N –** This is Part 3 of The Rift trilogy. Newcomers to this story verse might want to acquaint themselves with Parts 1 and 2 before they delve into this stew of angst. You can find them on my profile page; I'd put the hyperlinks here but this site disallows them. Sorry.

So, I tried to make this a one-shot as I desperately did not want to commit to yet another multi-chapter story due to work obligations. However, every time I tried to pen out a one-shot everything read like it was rushed and jumbled. In the end, I gave up and decided to flesh things out. Let me know what you thought if you have half a moment. Happy reading.

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**Chapter 1**

London was an experiment in misery and poverty. The fall of the Pound, the way it shattered onto the foreign exchange market's floor like so much glass, had resulted in England's capital caving in on itself.

The once thriving and powerful city crumbled under inflation and unemployment. Crime rates skyrocketed and violence swept across the city like a disease out of control. Monarchs were the first to go, their power and prestige stripped from their delicate fingers as the people revolted. Buckingham Palace was set aflame, burning like a bonfire on Guy Fawkes Night.

Corporate kingpins were next, the city's financial and central business district all but literally going up in smoke as businesses liquidated, from either excessive takeovers, monetary stress or plain carelessness.

The city turned on itself, its people too busy ransacking and spreading chaos to notice the damage until it was too late.

Now, London was a former shadow of itself; a ruined urban jungle of cracked roads and dilapidated infrastructure. Streets were littered with the homeless, the gang members, the addicts and the whores. People walked around armed for the police were as corrupt as they were helpful.

Life in London was a constant game of Russian Roulette.

One thing that hadn't changed? The weather.

Tara was made known of this fact as she skulked down an uneven cobblestone street, a marker of the city's previous Victorian influence. Rain poured down in near transparent sheets, soaking the ground below and obscuring visibility that was already aggravated by wisps of silver-gray fog that hung in the air like unwanted decorations. Thunder rumbled in the sky, its monotonous gargling shattered intermittently by the hard pounding of the rain.

A white-hot streak of lightning cut through the oil-black sky, momentarily igniting the city before the dark of night reclaimed its territory and clapped a heavy shadow over the bric-a-brac of decrepit buildings and streets.

Tara cursed under her breath as the front of her boot caught the lip of a jutting cobblestone, upsetting her equilibrium. She righted herself, adjusted the collar of her waterproof trench coat more snuggly over her neck then continued down the pathetically lit street, the tail of her coat flapping out behind her like an ominous pair of midnight wings.

The vampire rounded the corner and proceeded up a small incline, her boots sloshing and slipping against the flow of rainwater and sludge that retched from a blocked storm sewer. The smell of shit and piss grew heavy in the air, a sickening aroma of human waste, as Tara neared the top of the small hill. She paused at the corner of the junction, squinted up at the graffiti-ed and abused street sign before she impatiently shoved a wet clump of hair off her forehead.

"Fuck." She had taken a wrong turn.

Tara stood preternaturally still as she tuned out her surroundings. She dug into her recent memories, unearthed the image of London's street map and brought it to her mind's eye. Mental fingers located her current location then drew a path to her destination.

A sound to her left snapped the vampire out of her internal wanderings and she barely managed to sidestep the lunge of a V addict, so concentrated she was on her mental findings.

The addict, his lank hair matted to the sides of his head, his eyes wild and feral from withdrawal crashed into a nearby broken lamppost. The impact of his head hitting the unforgiving metal post didn't deter him as he righted himself and pulled out a wicked looking hunting knife.

"I want yer fuckin' blood," he snarled, his voice pitched with desperation and need. He sprang forward, slashing blindly with his knife, his movements clumsy and unstable.

Tara simply contorted her body out of his path of attack, kicked out with a heavily booted foot and sent the knife the addict was holding out of his hand and skittering down the road.

"Ya can't have it," Tara sneered, her eyes steely as she regarded him in manner that a child regards an unwanted toy. She darted forward, gave him a patronizing slap across the face then leapt back.

He shrieked, more from frustration than pain and turned around to throw himself at Tara, his need for V overwhelming his survivor's instincts.

Tara used his momentum to send him careening into the brick wall of an uninhabited building. His head smacked against the side of the building with a sickening crack and he crumpled to the ground in an unceremonious heap, leaving a slick trail of blood down the brick walls. He didn't move.

"Fuckin' amateur," Tara hissed at the prone body. That was all the attention she provided for the addict before she turned on her heel and retraced her steps.

Ambling back down the hill, she turned into a dark alleyway where even the relentless wash of rain couldn't mask the stench of piss and sweat. The pungent smells seemed to have soaked into the pores of the dirt-streaked brick walls and Tara was infinitely glad she didn't need to breathe as she trudged down the alleyway and onto a main street teeming with activity. _Nighttime _activity.

It was whore central.

People were fucking left and right, some out in the open, others hunkered in the shadows of darkened street corners. There were clients sitting in their cars, moaning and grunting as whores worked at them with their mouths. One man had a boy who looked no more than fifteen pressed up against a dumpster, pounding into him from behind. The boy's eyes were screwed shut, his face pinched with pain as his client plowed repeatedly into him.

Tara turned her head away in disgust, fighting the urge to blur over to the man and twist his head clean off his shoulders.

A hand on her shoulder made her snarl and instinct had her grabbing the hand and twisting. Bones snapped and a scream of pain followed but Tara paid the whore who had managed to sneak up on her no mind as she slammed her up against the alley wall.

"_Never_ sneak up on a vampire," Tara hissed, locking eyes of obsidian onto a pair of frightened hazel. "Ya hear?" She pressed the whore into the brick wall, uncaring of the fact that it made the whore whimper in pain as the rough texture scraped at her near naked back.

The whore nodded and Tara let her go, watching with unsympathetic eyes as she ran off, clutching her ruined wrist.

The vampire looked up at the street sign tacked a quarter way up the wall. Nodding satisfactorily, she turned right and continued down the street, bypassing rutting couples and whores that called out to her, their voices equally cocky and seductive. Tara suppressed a shiver of revulsion as her eyes were unwilling witnesses to sexual acts that bordered on depraved. She couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped past parted lips when she reached the end of the street, leaving behind the reek of arousal and body fluids along with the grunts, moans and pained whimpers.

The skies were finally clearing when Tara made her way down the blissfully quiet street. The vampire noted that this street was composed of boarding houses, some more elegant than the other but still overall shabby and in need of a new coating of paint.

She came to a stop across the road from a looming apartment building that was Victorian in style. It was an eyesore as it towered over all the boarding houses; its outer shell decaying, graffiti-ed and plastered with posters, pictures and ads. The main entrance, two pathetic looking double doors bore a cracked window, a dangling doorknob and the word "cunt" spray-painted across the other window.

"You have _got_ to be fuckin' kidding me," Tara swore, her voice tinged with disbelief. She couldn't believe that Pam would _willingly_ live in s shithole such as this. A shithole just off whore central in what Tara had come to conclude was probably London's dirtiest, lowest, most dangerous part of town.

She whipped out the slip of paper Eric had given her, matched the address to that of the street sign stenciled above the entrance doors then let loose a litany of cusses when the words unfortunately matched.

"What the actual fuck, Pam?" Worry and panic, two emotions that had been hounding her since Eric had hunted her down in that piss-poor excuse for a bar, were now gnawing its irritating teeth at nerves that were already frayed. She took a deliberate step forward, intending to cross the street and into the building to demand an explanation from her ex-lover when an all too familiar smell drifted from across the street to caress her senses.

Lavender and honeysuckle. A hint of vanilla.

Pam.

Tara hastily backed into a shadowy corner, unwilling to reveal herself for reasons unknown. Her breath hitched in her throat when Pam emerged from those falling apart doors. When she stepped into the weak spotlight courtesy of the lamppost in front of the apartment building, Tara's knees threatened to buckle.

Starved. That was the first word that came to Tara's mind as disbelieving eyes ran a visual sweep down the length of Pam's body…or what was left of it. The blonde's normally form fitting clothes all but hung off her emaciated frame, her body having thinned to the point of skeletal. Her maker's face was gaunt, her cheeks hollowed out and her eyes sunken into her skull. The color of her skin was pallid, bordering on a grayish tinge and her thick blonde hair lay mused and tangled around her too thin face.

Pam was shaking slightly as she glanced down both sides of the street. Then she seemed to go rigid as her nose picked up something.

Tara pressed her back further into the building she was currently hiding against. She watched as Pam's eyes, so blank and lifeless, tracked a path across the other side of the street. They momentarily stopped right where Tara was hiding and Tara had to bite down hard on her lip to contain her cry of shock; Pam's eyes, normally a vibrant Prussian blue was now so alarmingly devoid of life. So much so that the blue of her eyes were now rendered to a dull slate gray.

Tara observed Pam with pain-laden eyes and a heart pumped full of so much sadness that she thought it might burst in the confines of her chest. She watched as Pam's shoulders slump and her lower lip tremble. She turned away, exposing her back to Tara and proceeded to walk down the dimly lit street.

Tara counted to twenty, girded her mental loins and then proceeded to follow, purposely using her nose to track Pam so that she could keep a sizeable distance between them to avoid detection.

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There was someone following her, that she knew for a fact. Pam paused as she pretended to read a street sign but then cast an inconspicuous glance over her shoulder.

Nothing. She sighed and continued on, needing to get to the blood mart before the nighttime crowd rush kicked in. Pam didn't do so well in crowds anymore; it made her feel boxed in, claustrophobic, suffocated.

As Pam walked, she couldn't help but acknowledge that whatever or whoever was following her was not a threat. Every instinct, active or otherwise was completely unperturbed by her mysterious follower, which made Pam wary. She turned the corner and tossed another look behind her but the London fog that crept in from the Thames conveniently obscured the street she left behind with twisty fingers of gray-white.

"Of course," she murmured as she made her way down the narrow street that would spit her out into the main square. She paused again when she felt the presence of her follower and this time, it registered to her as _familiar_. The presence felt familiar. Tears pricked her eyes, the realization causing her to come to the conclusion that she was indeed in the throes of heavy blood withdrawal. Delusions, overactive imaginations, these were all symptoms vampires were subjected to when they didn't feed for long periods of time.

Shaking her head, both in disgust with herself and to clear the smog in her head, she ambled down the narrow street and was halfway past a dark alleyway when two Drainers jumped out at her.

Pam immediately hissed, her fangs protracting over lips that were pulled back into a snarl.

"Well looky here, we got ourselves a wild alley cat," the taller one of the two announced. He swung the heavy silver chain in front of him in a circular motion and Pam, knowing that whilst she may be able to take down one Drainer, was already too weak to attempt to tussle with two. She backed up, snarling at the two advancing men.

"Here, kitty, kitty," the bulkier man cooed in a manner that was decidedly patronizing. He moved away from his silver carrying partner and beckoned Pam mockingly with a "come hither" gesture.

As he was seemingly devoid of any present silver, Pam lunged for him first. The realization that he was bait came a fraction too late as she exposed her unprotected back to the man with the silver chain.

Pam hissed in pain as the silver chain was immediately wrapped around her neck from behind, halting her movements. The effect was instantaneous as the silver bit deeply into vulnerable flesh, leeching her of her remaining strength and burning a path through skin and muscle.

"There, now," the bulky man soothed. He walked up to stand in front of Pam, smiled a decidedly unfriendly smile, then backhanded her. Blood sprayed out from torn lips as the blonde's head snapped sideways.

"Hey, don't waste the V," the tall man complained. Using the chain, he dragged her into the cover of darkness provided by the alleyway. "Where's the kit? I'll hold her while you drain."

The bulky man appraised Pam with a glint in his eye that send a lick of fear down the length of her spine. Her fears were confirmed when he began stroking himself through the material of his pants.

"Lemme have some fun with the slag, first," the bulky man proclaimed, leering at Pam. "You want a go?"

"I don't fuck things without a pulse," the tall man behind Pam replied, disgust evident in his tone. He stepped out from behind Pam, coiled the chain around her right wrist and tied it to a rung jutting out from the wall she was pressed up against. Grabbing the remaining chain, he did the same with her other wrist until Pam was securely pinned to the wall by silver.

"Well stand guard then," the bulky man said. His voice was interspersed with pants as he continued to fondle himself.

"Make it quick," the taller man retorted as he took his position by the mouth of the alleyway.

"Don't worry, love," the man leered as he unzipped his pants. "I'm a good shag." He fished out his semi-erect cock and began fisting himself in earnest with one hand. His other hand reached out for the button of Pam's jeans and the blonde whimpered and tried to twist out of his grasp but the combination of the silver against her skin and the lack of blood consumption over the past few weeks resulted in her being weaker than a newborn kitten.

Pam was about to succumb to her fate when an ear piercing scream sounded from the end of mouth of the alleyway. It was followed by the sickening crunch of bones and a wet plop as a decapitated head rolled down the alleyway only to stop at the bulky man's feet.

"Jesus Christ!" The shocked exclamation was punctuated by the sound of a heavy body dropping to the ground. Before the man could make another sound, he found himself pressed up against the wall opposite Pam by a dark-skinned vampire with the look of death in pitch-black eyes.

Tara held the man effortlessly by the throat with one hand. Her eyes roamed down the length Pam's attacker and almost rapist until she caught sight of his exposed dick. A cruel smile painted her lips and without so much as a warning, she grabbed the exposed appendage and snapped it viciously sideways.

The man howled in agony as Tara effectively ruined rigid muscles that once made up his erection.

"Shut. _Up_," Tara snarled, so incensed that her words were barely coherent through a voice that was more of a sub-vocal growl. She tightened her fingers around his throat, one squeeze shy of causing permanent damage, though the iron-clad grip she had around his neck had rendered the man unable to speak let alone scream. Her gargled and gasped, his stubby hands clawing at Tara's fingers to no avail.

Tara stared hard into his eyes, her own blazing with a seething fury that was almost palpable. Her hand still around his broken penis, she gave it a none too gentle squeeze, watching with absolutely no mercy as tears sprang into his eyes and his mouth formed an "O" of silent screams.

"You will die for trying to touch her like that," Tara promised, her voice dark with rage, her eyes glinting with murderous intent. She gave the now pitifully flaccid cock another squeeze, her fingernails digging into the sensitive flesh and drawing blood. The man twitched against her and choked out something that resembled a yowl.

"How would like to die?" Tara's voice was frighteningly conversational as she regarded the man with a bland look. "Would you like me to rip off that pathetic stump you call a dick and shove it down your throat?" The man's eyes grew wide as dinner plates when Tara fanned out her hand to encase both his testicles and his penis in her palm. She made a twisting motion with her wrist and the man managed a garbled scream.

"Maybe I'll just _kick _it up to your throat," Tara mused. She smiled a twisted smile before she brought her knee up to his exposed junk.

Something snapped and tore and blood spurted from split skin to drip out from between the man's legs. Tara's eyes were arctic, her expression completely emotionless as the man thrashed within her grip, screaming silently between chokes and gags. Then, his animated body of flailing limbs suddenly went slack as his eyes rolled to the back of head.

Tara sneered in disdain as the man passed out, slumping forward as his body succumbed to the cocktail of pain, fear and panic. Tara let go of his nether regions, clapped both hands to either side of his face and snapped his neck.

The man was dead before he hit the ground. Tara looked down at the unmoving body with stone cold eyes then kicked out with her foot; her boot came into contact with the side of his head, shattering his skull to pieces and leaving a noticeable dent.

The enraged vampire was about to do more damage when a whimper brought her out of her red haze of anger. She turned and realized that Pam was still silvered to the wall.

"Shit." She vamp sped to her maker and made quick work of unchaining Pam, uncaring of the fact that the silver bit and blistered her exposed palms.

When the chain slithered off Pam's neck and wrists onto the grime-slicked floor, Tara kicked it down the alleyway. She gripped at Pam's shoulders when the blonde's legs gave out from under her.

"Hey," Tara began, her voice laced with panic as she watched Pam's gaze swim in and out of focus. "Look at me, Pam." She reached out and to grip the blonde's chin, worry etched across her face when Pam didn't even acknowledge her. "Look at me!"When Pam's eyes rolled to the back of her head, Tara bit off a curse and swept her into her arms. Panic gave way to a very real fear when she felt just how light and bony Pam was.

"Fuck, what have you done?" Tara cried out as Pam's head lolled onto her shoulder and her body went slack in her arms.

Cradling a barely conscious Pam, Tara vamp sped them out of the alley.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N -** Thank you for all the feedback! It's like getting fresh out of the oven homemade cookies. Here's chapter 2; you can thank the new James Bond movie, Skyfall, for inspiring me to finish it. Damn but can Adele siiing! The theme song sure gave me chills. Anyhoo, happy reading! And as always, reviews and feedback are very much welcomed.**  
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**Chapter 2**

A legion of candles stood sentinel on shelves, a sink and the windowsill, gently weeping wax down their thick creamy-white bodies. Flames sat atop their wicks, swaying hypnotically to an unheard rhythm as they threw weak yellow-golden light across the room. Elongated shadows smudged the floorboards and yawned to the ceiling, creating a perturbing atmosphere that was both enigmatic and soothing.

"It's nice to see some things don't change," Tara murmured as she lit the last candle and set its stumpy body on the small square table by the luxurious antique clawfoot tub. Turning, she addressed the blonde ensconced on a Victorian styled chair. "Candles were always your thang." A small smile tugged at full lips as she made way to Pam.

The blonde was hunched in the chair, a deep blue afghan shot through with wild emerald streaks wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She stared vaguely off into space, her eyes vacant. She didn't acknowledge Tara's presence as the dark-skinned vampire came to a stop in front of her.

"Hey." Tara bent her knees until she was eye-level with Pam. A bolt of heartache shocked a path through her heart when Pam didn't so much as flinch when Tara reached up to cup her cheek. "Pamela," she continued undeterred, though she mentally cursed the break in her voice. "Pam."

Nothing. Tara bit back a sob as she regarded her former lover. Pam appeared…catatonic. Her body, though relaxed, was decidedly unresponsive to physical stimuli. She simply sat in the chair Tara had deposited her in, her face a smooth canvas of nothing, her eyes devoid of life. It was as if Tara was touching a hollow body, a jacket of flesh and muscle that had been emptied of a mind and soul.

The younger vampire's thoughts turned to Pam's injuries when her thumb grazed the cut that was still trying to heal itself on the blonde's lower lip. The fact that such a simple injury was healing at human rates was a testament to just how malnourished Pam was.

"You need to feed." Retracting her hand, she brought it up to her lips. Holding her wrist to her mouth, she let her fangs protract with a subtle click, then bit down into the soft skin. She dragged the sharp incisors across her wrist, tearing open skin and veins until blood starburst onto her tongue and the iron-y tang of blood saturated the air.

Swallowing residual blood that pooled in her mouth, she held out her bleeding wrist to Pam. "C'mon, Pamela." Pam didn't react and a muscle ticked in Tara's jaw as she held her weeping wrist up to Pam's mouth. "Drink."She pressed her wrist against Pam's lips, hoping to entice the blonde into opening her mouth but her efforts were for naught. "_Goddamn_ it, Pam!" She pressed her wrist against full lips, effectively smearing them a macabre red. "Baby, _please_," she begged when Pam remained willfully unresponsive.

Silence. Not a suck nor a swallow.

Tears rimmed Tara's eyes, from fear or anger or panic, she didn't know. There were too many emotions raging within her, so ensnared and tangled that she couldn't begin to tell them apart. "Please don't make me force feed you," Tara beseeched, her voice hoarse with tears. She didn't want to subject her ex-lover to such humiliation, didn't want to _see_ it.

When Pam still failed to react, Tara gritted her teeth. "Fine. _Fine_." She reached up, gripped Pam's jaw with firm fingers and wrestled it open. She flinched when she realized her fingers were leaving _bruises_ on snow-white skin; that was how starved Pam's body was of blood. "When you're back to normal, I'm going to fuckin' _kick_ your martyring ass," Tara hissed as she shoved her wrist between the open seam of Pam's lips.

"Drink, damn you." Pressing her wrist firmly against Pam's full lips, she used the pressure to force the blonde's head back. Her other hand moved from Pam's jaw to her throat where she began massaging it to stimulate a swallowing motion. It took a few moments but Tara finally sighed in abject relief when Pam began swallowing. A light suckling sound could be heard in the otherwise silent room as Pam's body, driven by primal instinct, forced the blonde to ingest the life giving liquid.

"That's it," Tara encouraged, her voice returning to its soft burr. Her free hand moved up to brush away wisps of lank blonde hair away from Pam's face. "Good girl."

Tara observed Pam carefully as she fed. She watched as the bruises she administered on the blonde's jaw fade back to alabaster white. The burns on her wrist from the silver chain began to fade from a deep, raw red to a watered pink before the skin knitted over the wound.

When Tara felt herself begin to weaken, she reluctantly drew back her hand and smeared the blood around the wound onto the cuts. They healed almost immediately but Tara had to take a moment to shake off the slight dizziness from giving Pam so much of her blood.

Once she had recovered her equilibrium, she refocused her attention on Pam and sighed despondently. Her blood may have healed the blonde's injuries but it didn't nothing for her mental state.

"You aren't going to make this easy on me, are ya?" Tara sighed. She stroked a finger down Pam's cheek, hoping for Pam to lean in to her touch. Nothing.

"Baby steps, then." She cast a look over her shoulder, noted the steam rising from the half-filled bathtub then turned back to Pam. "Let's get you into the tub, huh?"

She grabbed a hold of a corner of the afghan and slowly began to peel it from around Pam, taking great measures to ensure that her actions were gentle. Next, she moved to Pam's shirt, belatedly realizing that the forest-green and navy-blue plaid shirt was hers.

"Thief," Tara murmured fondly as she unbuttoned it, and pulled it off Pam's shoulders and down her arms. "I had wondered where this shirt went." She draped it over the corner of the back of the chair then reached around Pam to unclasp her bra.

"I need you to stand up for me," Tara requested quietly after she unbuttoned Pam's simple black jeans. She shook her head in growing exasperation when Pam didn't react and wriggled a hand under the blonde to lift her up off the chair. Her other hand made quick work of yanking down the jeans and underwear.

"C'mon," Tara said, her voice a soft lull. She nudged the jeans aside with her toe, then lifted Pam into her arms. Cradling her like a newborn, she carried the blonde over to the tub and gently lowered her into the steamy water. "Is it too hot?" she asked conversationally.

No response.

Tara bit down on her lower lip, almost drawing blood as she fought against the tidal wave of pain and sadness that crashed into her. In all the years she had been with Pam, never once had she seen the blonde in such a state of lifelessness. It was as if her maker had lost the will to live and was just going through the motions.

"If I'd known…" Tara cut herself off. Would she have come running if she knew the condition Pam was in? Would her pride have let her? If it weren't for the pained and terrified look in Eric's eye, would she have come?

Tara cinched her jaw, disgusted that she couldn't come up with concrete answers to any of those questions. She knelt by the side of the tub, reached blindly behind her for the washcloth on the small table. Soaking it in the lavender scented water, she began gently bathing Pam.

"_It might be your smile, 'cause it can change my day,"_ Tara sang, her voice a soothing low alto as she ran the cloth down Pam's arm. "_Blue eyes that chase my blues away."_ It was one of Tara's favorite songs for every time she heard it, she would be reminded of Pam. A bittersweet smile graced her lips as recalled the night she serenaded the blonde with it.

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"It might be your touch,"_ Tara crooned softly as she gently stroked Pam's hair. She grinned when she felt Pam smile against her neck. "_That keeps me coming back for more."

"_Insatiable is what you are," Pam murmured, her tone dry though affectionate. She nuzzled into the crook of Tara's neck, pressing a gentle kiss to ebony skin._

"Loving words that keep me going strong,"_ Tara continued. _"That heart of yours I hang my future on."_ She pressed a kiss to the top of Pam's head. _"What it is, I can't say for sure."

"_That is so sappy, I think my fangs are getting a cavity," Pam mumbled. She playful tangled her legs with Tara's under the sheet, her toes nudging at Tara's in a manner that sparked a footsie war._

"_Stop it," Tara giggled as she wriggled away from Pam's teasing toes, unlatching herself from Pam's arms in the process._

"_Hey, get back here," Pam pouted, holding out an arm. When Tara arched an eyebrow at her, Pam's lower lip jutted out further, causing Tara to melt. "Pleeeease?"_

_Tara smiled, a soft smile that she reserved only for Pam. She scooted back towards her lover but propped an elbow on the pillow to cradle her head. Her other hand immediately reached out to stroke imaginary lines down an impossibly smooth cheek._

"It's just that she's got this thing about her, she's got this thing about her," _Tara continued singing, watching affectionately as a shy smile crawl across Pam's full lips. "_Like the magic in your favorite song, you just can't put your finger on."

_Pam ducked her head as Tara continued to serenade her. No matter how many times Tara sang to her, it never failed to make her bashful and shy. She was supremely glad that as a vampire, she couldn't blush because that would be a humiliation she would not recover from._

"In her arms when we're all alone, I get the feeling that I've come back home."_ Tara caught Pam deftly when the blonde lunged at her and pinned her to the bed by draping half her body over hers. _"She's got this thing about her."

_Pam burrowed into Tara, savoring the feel of her lover's arms around her, the scent of dark chocolate enveloping her, comforting her._

"She's the love I've known eternally,"_ Tara sang into Pam's ear, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin. _"It always feels so brand new to me."_ She dropped a kiss to the top of Pam's jaw. "_She's got this thing about her."

_Pam felt her eyes well with tears and she sniffled. "I love you, Tara."_

_Tara hugged Pam fiercely to her. Pressing her lips into Pam's hair, she whispered, "I love you too."_

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A barely audible splash snapped Tara out from her wanderings down memory lane. Looking down, she realized that the slightly creamy-tinged water had a steak of pink swimming along the edge of the tub. She reached up with a hand to touch her cheek and realized she was crying when her fingertips came away wet and smudged red.

"Fuck," she breathed out shakily. Swiping a hand across her face, she wiped residual bloody tears on her jeans and refocused her attention back onto the blonde.

"Sorry," she whispered to the uncommunicative blonde. She let the washcloth hang over the side of the tub as she reached for the bottle of shampoo. Squeezing a generous dollop onto her upturned palm, she moved to squat behind Pam. "Probably wasn't the best song choice, huh?" she said as she began lathering up Pam's hair.

"You're going to have to talk to me at some point," Tara pointed out quietly minutes later as she rinsed out the suds in Pam's hair. "I know you're in there somewhere," she continued softly as she stared down at Pam's tipped back head. "Talk to me, baby." The term of endearment fell so easily from her lips, as though she had never stopped saying them.

Tara swallowed and gently brought Pam's head back forward. Rocking back on her heels, she simply sat back and stared at the flawless expanse of Pam's back. "Ya know I don't think I've ever stopped loving you," she admitted, her voice brittle with emotion. She released a resigned chuckle. "I don't think I know _how_ to stop loving you."

"But you still left me."

Pam's voice, that familiar husky lilt, was so unexpected that it sounded like a gun going off in Tara's ears. She was kneeling by the side of the tub in an instant, one hand reaching out to cup Pam's cheek.

"Pam?" Tara choked back a sob when the blonde actually turned to lock dull blue eyes onto her own chips of dark chocolate. "Pamela," she breathed out, the blonde's name falling from her lips like a devout prayer. "There you are," she whispered as she caressed Pam's cheek. "Hey."

"Are you real?" Pam asked softly. She lifted a hand out of the water and began to reach out for Tara but then dropped it back down. "No," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I don't think you are." Despondency coated her tone and misery flashed across her face as her brows furrowed in pain.

"I'm real," Tara insisted. She pressed her hand more firmly against Pam's cheek. "I'm very real."

"Why did you leave me, Tara?" Pained winter-gray eyes dropped onto Tara's face and Tara felt the bottom of her stomach drop out at the near tangible wash of agony that was painted across Pam's face.

"You broke us, Pamela." Tara dropped her hand from Pam's cheek and sat back on her haunches. Tears welled in her eyes and began falling in earnest, droplets of ruby red crisscrossing down ebony cheeks. "You broke our bond," she rasped, her voice raw with pain.

"A mistake," Pam mumbled, her voice broken. She trailed a lone finger through the soapy water, her movements shaky as tears of crimson scrolled lazily down her pale cheeks. "A mistake I will spend eternity paying for." She hiccupped then looked back up at Tara whose breath hitched in her throat the sight of Pam's anguished face. "That didn't mean I loved you any less."

The muscles in Tara's jaw twitched as she gritted her teeth in an effort not to just breaking down on the bathroom floor and _cry_. "It hurt so bad, Pam," Tara whimpered. "I couldn't _feel_ you anymore." Her shoulders shook with effort to contain sobs that were desperate to crawl up her throat. "It was like a part of me died."

"I know," Pam murmured, her voice rough with pain. "I know." She closed her eyes and leaned back against the tub. "But you left," Pam repeated, her voice growing hoarser with each word. "You didn't…didn't give me a chance to fix things." Blue eyes opened to revealed a tortured gaze. "You just…left." A sob burst from her lips.

"Don't," Tara warned, anger creeping into her voice. "Don't you _dare_ blame all of this on me." She clenched her fingers, nails digging into the palm of her hand. "I'm not the one who threw away _decades_ of _everything_ because of a stupid _fight_!"

"I know," Pam mumbled submissively. She slipped in the water slightly but couldn't find the strength to right herself. "I know," she repeated, slurring her words a little as a frisson of exhaustion shuddered through her body. "Look at us," she observed. "After fifty years of absence, the first thing we do is fight." A self-deprecating laugh bubbled out from her throat. "Quite a pair, you and I."

"We're not," Tara began, swallowing around a lump in throat. "A pair," she continued when Pam turned sad eyes onto her. A line of red chased its predecessor down her cheek. "I don't know if we can ever get back what we've lost, Pamela."

Pam nodded. "I still love you," she whispered raggedly as she closed her eyes, sending a smattering of tears to roll down her cheeks.

"I love you too," Tara returned sadly. "So much," she added brokenly. "But I don't know if we can go back to the way we were," she choked out. Tears ran rampant down her cheeks as she watched Pam's body shake under the weight of her sobs.

"I want you to leave," Pam requested quietly after minutes of tense, tremulous silence, her voice still raspy with tears. "You _need_ to leave," she repeated, her voice becoming agitated.

Tara stared at her through the thick curtain of blood-tears. "I…I can't," she admitted brokenly. She hung her head, unable to stand the sight of Pam looking so defeated.

"Can't? Or won't?" Pam prodded gently and the small note of hopefulness ringing in her voice sent a silver shard to pierce Tara's heart.

"I…" Tara swallowed, unwilling to look up into Pam's eyes when the next words fell out of her mouth. "I can't. Eric sent me." Her head dipped lower until her chin almost touched her chest.

"Eric," Pam breathed out. Her eyes closed in disgust, disgust with herself. For letting herself believe that Tara had sought her out of her own accord. She clenched her fists under the now lukewarm water. "Get. _Out."_

Tara's head sprang back up at the forcefulness of Pam's tone and for the first time since their reunion, she saw a fire in Pam's eyes. It gave her hope, knowing that a bit of the old Pam was still in there somewhere. "I promised him I would take care of you," Tara revealed quietly.

The spark of defiance in Pam's blue eyes fanned into a sudden blaze of rage, rendering her gaze electric. "I am _not_ your pity project," the blonde hissed. She wrestled herself to her knees, then braced her hands on either side of the tub to try to lift herself to her feet. When her shaking arms gave out, she almost crashed back into the water when Tara's arms wrapped around her waist, steadying her. "Don't you touch me," she seethed, trying to jerk away from Tara's touch.

"Stop it," Tara pleaded as she held Pam in a firm grip. "Please. Just let me help you!" she cried, flinching slightly when Pam managed to backhand her across the face.

"_Fuck_ you," Pam spat back, thrashing about in Tara's arms. "I hate you! I hate you!" She crumbled back into the water when her strength gave out and her knees buckled. Her back hit the tub with an audible smack and splash and she dissolved into tears. "I hate you," she sobbed though there was no sincerity to her words. She clung to Tara, her entire body sending waves through the bathwater as she quaked under the force of her sobs.

Tara sank to her knees by the side of the tub and held Pam to her. Tears of rub red poured down her cheeks as she let herself break down. "I'm sorry," she sobbed back as she cradled Pam's head to her shoulder. "I'm so sorry…"

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** – Song used is '_She's Got This Thing About_ Her' by Chris Young


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N -** Thanks for all the marvelous feedback and comments! I really appreciate it. Here's chapter 3; again if you've got a moment, let me know what you thought. Happy reading!**  
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**Chapter 3**

It was a mistake, holding her like this. Already Tara could feel decades of conditioning, of being cold, heartless and unfeeling, crumbling like rotted wood. And seeping through her broken defenses was the miasma of warmth, love, safety and trust. It breathed life into her dead heart, bathed her tattered soul in its wonder.

Home. That's what Tara felt when she lay in Pam's arms, or Pam in hers. Like she'd come back home.

But what if home also brought with it the memory of cataclysmic events that had led Tara to become what she was now? Broken. Cruel. Stripped of her humanity.

Pam stirred, mumbling incoherently and breaking Tara out of her troubled reverie. She looked down at the blonde in her arms, still hopelessly enchanted by how peaceful and angelic Pam managed to look when sleep took her under.

The dark-skinned vampire tightened her hold, molding her body around Pam's back, effectively playing the big spoon. Pam's body immediately adjusted, curling perfectly into every nook and cranny of Tara's body, sending a fond smile to skitter across the vampire's face. They'd always fit well together.

_'Like two pieces of a fuckin' sexy puzzle,'_ Pam had once drawled lazily when they lay in each other's arms, completely fucked out and unable to move, drunk on post-coital bliss.

Tara's lips twitched at the memory and couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at her lips as she continued to gaze reverently at her former lover. It was a look that bespoke of a love that never quite diminished with time.

Even with the weight loss, the emotional turmoil, Pam was still ethereally beautiful. In all the decades Tara had been on earth, all the places she had roamed, she had never once come across a beauty such as Pam. There was just no comparing anyone to her maker. Nothing would ever measure up to the woman she currently held in her arms.

"Always and forever my fallen angel," Tara murmured, moving the arm that wasn't pinned to the bed underneath Pam's body to trace the features of Pam's face. She ran her thumb over sculpted pale eyebrows, stroked a lone finger down the delicate slope of a nose and brushed the pads of her fingers over soft bee-stung lips. She followed the curve of a prominent cheekbone, slid her knuckles down the plane of a shockingly smooth cheek then followed the line of a stubborn jaw.

"Eternally the most magnificent creature I will ever lay my eyes on," the vampire continued, her voice a soft burr as moved her hand back up to Pam's hair. She brushed wisps of blonde strands away from her maker's forehead.

_Tomorrow,  
I'm gonna leave here  
I'm gonna let you go  
And walk away like every day I said I would_

Tara looked up, her eyes narrowing in on an ancient stereo set that sat perched on the corner of Pam's dressing table. She shook her head, half in exasperation, and half in resignation.

"The fates are conspiring against us, angel," Tara whispered down to the sleeping woman. She ran her knuckles down Pam's cheek, committing the feel of soft skin to memory.

She lay head down next to Pam's and closing her eyes, Tara sank into the euphoric cloud of lavender and honeysuckle, allowing the scent to seep into her pores. Tara cherished the closeness of their bodies, basked in it, for she knew that what she had now was no more than a temporary bliss, a brief reprieve from the world outside.

_And tomorrow,  
I'm gonna listen  
To that voice of reason in my head  
Telling me that we're no good_

***FLASH***

_Tara and Pam were both overly proud vampires. If they were guilty one deadly sin, pride would their vice for they had it in spades. It was one of their many glaring problems, but it would soon prove to be the rotten root that would topple their steady tree._

_As such, pride was currently the reason for their latest fight._

_Pam threw open the front door, almost tearing it off its hinges as she stalked into the foyer, threw her purse down onto the table then whirled around to face her irate lover._

_Tara followed, her face an experiment in annoyance as she kicked the door shut behind her and leaned against it. She glowered up at Pam who glowered back, her cerulean blue eyes arctic._

"_Just what the __**fuck**__ did you think you were doing?" Pam finally spat out when Tara remained willfully silent._

"_I was __**thinkin'**__ that you was in a tight spot and that I should help your sorry ass out," Tara drawled blithely._

"_You undermined my authority, Tara!" Pam snapped. "In front of the V Council!" She tugged a frustrated hand through her hair. "Do you know how that makes me look? Knowing that I can't control my own progeny?"_

"_Whoa, whoa," Tara cut in. "Back the fuckin' truck." She shot Pam an incredulous look. "Progeny?"_

_Pam huffed out an impatient breath. "Yes, Tara," she replied snidely. "You progeny, me maker," she explained, her tone condescending as she gestured between them with a flourishing hand._

"_Now you wait just one goddamn second," Tara spat back. "I'm not __**just**__ your progeny; I'm your lover, your goddamn __**partner**__!"_

"_Not to the Council!" Pam took a menacing step forward, her three-inch heels allowing her to tower over Tara but intimidation was a tool that never quite worked on the younger vampire. The evidence of how unaffected Tara was by Pam's pathetic attempt to exercise coercion was present in Tara's raised eyebrow and unimpressed look. "To the Council, you are nothing more than my progeny and as such, you will do well to fall in line!"_

***FLASH***

Tara was shaken out of the memory when a clap of thunder rolled in through a crack under the window. Next to her, Pam's brows furrowed and she whimpered a little at the sound, her body moving about restlessly before Tara's soothing shushes and tight embrace lulled her back into a peaceful stasis.

_But tonight I'm gonna give in one last time  
Rock you strong in these arms of mine  
Forget all the regrets that are bound to follow_

"Regrets are all we have left," Tara murmured. She pressed a kiss into Pam's hair, savoring the hint of vanilla from the blonde's shampoo. She sighed as another clap of thunder rumbled ominously outside. "Fuckin' British weather," she muttered derisively.

_We're like fire and gasoline  
I'm no good for you  
You're no good for me_

***FLASH***

"_Fall in line?" Tara echoed. "You want me to 'fall in line' like I'm your goddamn pet?!" Her voice dropped several degrees with each word as the realization of what Pam said sank in. Eyes cut from obsidian flashed black fire as she blurred forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with her maker. "I am __**not**__ your lackey," she growled, her voice almost sub-vocal. "Nor am I some fuckin' trained monkey you can take out to play when it suits you."_

"_What you __**are**__," Pam hissed. "Is a fuckin' pain in my ass." She took a step back, hoping the distance between her and Tara could cool their heels. It was futile effort; both had tempers that sparked far too easily and both had an endless arsenal of vocabulary that would only spark their tempers into raging infernos. _

"_You are disobedient, cocky, irrational and __**reckless**__," Pam listed, vexation a heavy note in her voice. "And yet at the same time you manage to act like a petulant toddler whose mommy told her that 'no, you can't have more.'" Pam's tone was now patronizing as she leveled an unamused look at Tara. "I've had enough of your shit, Tara. It's time for you to put on your big girl pants and grow the fuck up!" She thrust a finger into Tara's face. "And that means following rank when I tell you to. Understand?"_

"_Fuck you!" Tara snarled batting Pam's finger away from her face. "You know what? I'm sick of you thinking you're better than me. I'm sick of you thinking that you always know what's best for me. I'm fuckin' sick of __**you**__!" she shouted angrily, pushing hard against Pam's shoulders, sending the blonde skidding back a few inches._

"_You're sick of __**me**__?!" Pam roared back. "You goddamn ungrateful piece of shit!" Pam blurred up to Tara and shoved her hard up against the door. "You want out?" she questioned, her voice acidic. "Fine. __**Fine**__. As your maker I fuckin' __**release**__ you!" Blue eyes were ablaze with seething rage as they bore down onto Tara. "Do ya hear? I __**release**__ you. Good riddance to bad fuckin' rubbish!"_

_Silence. _

_The atoms in the air froze._

_Time came to a screeching, grinding halt._

_The very world ceased to revolve around its axis._

_Pam felt it first. The bond that tethered her to Tara and Tara to her, stretched. And stretched. It reached the end of its elasticity, pulled so taut and radiating so much tension, that Pam felt as though a boa constrictor were coiled around her ribs, squeezing with malicious intent._

_Then it snapped._

_The force of the bond ripping viciously apart was like an atom bomb going off between them. _

_Deadly. Irreversible. Permanent. _

_Pam staggered back, collapsing against the staircase. She gripped at its railing, fingers digging so hard into the curved mahogany wood that it crumbled under the pressure._

_Tara's knees buckled and she latched desperately onto the doorknob. It shattered like glass in her hand, sending shards of metal to explode into her palm. The scent of blood immediately filled the air as blood starburst from the various cuts. Not having anything else to hold, she sank to her knees, her clenched fist oozing crimson._

"_What have you done?" Tara's voice was weak, hoarse with disbelief. She stared up at Pam, her face a mask of horror. _

_Pam sagged her weight against the staircase, her entire body now the consistency of jell-o. She stared back at Tara, her face blank with shock, her eyes already rimming red. She clapped a hand to her chest, desperate to feeling something, __**anything**__ from Tara. _

_Nothing. Not a murmur. Not a whisper. Nothing._

_Tara mirrored the act, her bleeding fist smudging red blotches across her shirt as she pressed it hard against her breast._

_Nothing. Empty. Not even an echo. Silence. _

"_No…" Tara felt as though she were drowning. She pressed down harder against her chest, pressed down so hard that a rib cracked under the force of her fist. Nothing. She felt nothing. "No…"_

_Tara looked up at Pam and the expression of utter devastation and loss painted across the blonde's face stabbed a sharp silver spike straight into the epicenter of her heart._

"_WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Tara screamed as reality crashed down on her…_

***FLASH***

_We only bring each other tears and sorrow_

Tara gasped like she'd been kneed in the solar plexus and pulled away from Pam. She fell off the side of the bed onto her hands and knees, the memory so vivid and raw that she felt the pain of it as acutely as she did that terrible night.

Digging her nails into the floorboards, she pulled jagged scratches across the wooden planks as she fought to regain her mental equilibrium. Her entire body shook with the weight of her sobs as the horror, pain and despair from that night raged through veins like wildfire, leaving her unable to draw breaths.

"Tara?"

The vampire in question snapped her head up. Pam was sitting on the side of the bed, her bare legs dangling over the side. She looked so disconcertingly innocent in her oversized sleep shirt and mused golden-blonde hair.

"I'm sorry," Tara blurted out, her voice hoarse with tears and pain. She sprang to her feet and blurred over to the dressing table chair where her still damp clothes lay. She vamp sped into them then blurred over to yank her trench coat off the coat rack. "I can't do this," she continued, her voice shaky and threatening to crack as she thrust her arms into the sleeves of her coat. "I can't," she repeated brokenly.

'_Eric can go fuck himself_,' Tara thought venomously as she shrugged the coat over her shoulders. She could not, _would not_ go through kind of pain again. Once was almost more than she could handle. A second time would kill her. She viciously tugged on her boots, not bothering to lace them up.

_We're like fire and gasoline  
I'm no good for you  
You're no good for me  
We only bring each other pain and sorrow_

"Please, Tara," Pam pleaded hoarsely. She watched as Tara made her way to the door on shaky legs and her eyes filled with tears. "_Please_."

Tara's hand hovered over the doorknob, locked in a state of suspended animation at Pam's impassionate plea.

_Baby, when we're good  
You know we're great  
But there's too much bad for us to think  
That there's anything worth trying to save_

"Don't go," Pam begged. She didn't move from the bed, couldn't even if she tried. Instead, she beseeched Tara with eyes that were bloody with tears and electric with sorrow. "Don't make me live without you again."

Tara lowered her head, the tears that were streaming down her cheeks now all but dripping off her chin in cascades of crimson. Love and logic warred within her, her body, heart and soul their battlefields to which they instantly laid waste.

Logic bellowed with indignant fury, charging at love with swords of reason. Love counterattacked, sidestepping reason and logic only to headbutt them into the slick bloody chambers of Tara's heart. The act sent a pulse of agony to gnaw at Tara's nerves and she quivered on the spot as her heart and her head continued amassing bruises and scars on her soul.

_But tonight I'm gonna give in one last time  
Rock you strong in these arms of mine  
Forget all the regrets that are bound to follow_

"Tara," Pam called out quietly, her voice brittle and barely audible when her former lover lowered her hand another inch, close enough so that the tips of her fingers almost brushed the doorknob.

Again, the sound of Pam's voice rendered her arm paralyzed in mid air. She exhaled raggedly as more tears skittered down her cheeks like speckles of tiny rubies.

"_Please_," came Pam's voice and it was so broken, so sad, so awash with pain that what was left of Tara's battered heart shattered into a million unretrieveable pieces onto the hardwood floor.

She turned, dropping her hand back to her side.

Tormented winter-blue eyes fixed itself upon a pair of heartbroken onyx ones, both reflecting souls that lay naked and bleeding and crying out for its mate.

"Please," Pam repeated softly, brokenly. Tears of ruby red anointed the white of her cheeks, stained the tops of her thighs and dotted circular splashes onto the wooden floorboards beneath her feet. "Don't leave me."

Tara released a gut-wrenching sob, the sound sending silver shards to pierce Pam's heart. When Tara sank to the floor by the door, Pam was instantly off the bed and kneeling in front of her. Tara collapsed into her, clinging to Pam with a desperation and need that bespoke of decades of sorrow, of pain, of regret.

Pam wrapped her own trembling arms around Tara, her own body assaulted by heartbreaking cries and overwhelming emotions.

They clung to each other, bodies gripping each other in vice-like holds as they shook and shivered and trembled, tears of rich crimson baptizing shoulders, necks and shirts.

They held each other, waiting for the mutual tempests raging in their bodies, hearts and souls to subside, knowing that in each other, they were their mate's only shelter from the storm.

**TBC**

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**A/N 2 –** Song used is '_Tomorrow' _by Chris Young. Y'all should take a gander; it's a very good song. Sad but poignant.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** – You guys are being so generous with your reviews! I humbly thank each and every one of you for taking the time to leave me your thoughts. Here's chapter 4 for y'all. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 4**

"_Is she there?"_

_Jessica bit her lip in retaliation; the sound of Pam's voice – so awash with pain and regret – was palpable even through the receiver. It flitted through the tiny device like a live thing, reaching into the confines of the redhead's chest only to wrap gnarled fingers around her unbeating heart. It squeezed at the vulnerable muscle, dug sharp nails digging mercilessly into the soft flesh and Jessica couldn't help but flinch slightly in response._

"_Jessica?"_

"_I…" Jessica began but then clamped her mouth shut. What exactly was she supposed to say? Trying to buy herself some time, the redhead stole a sidelong glance at the vampire in question; Tara was ensconced on the couch, her body slightly hunched over, her arms like ebony hued vines as they wrapped themselves tightly around her stomach. Her face a study in trauma, the features of it utterly blank and smooth, her eyes flat and devoid of life. She simply sat on the couch, sitting so preternaturally still that the air around her seemed to quiver and shimmer in response. _

"_I know she's there, Jess," came Pam's voice again and Jessica's teeth gnashed down harder onto the pillow-y softness of her lower lip when her vampiric hearing caught what sounded suspiciously like a choked sob emanating from the phone._

"_Yes, she's here," the redhead finally replied, her own voice sounding strangled. Cornflower blue eyes skidded sideways again, as they took in the frankly heartbreaking sight of Tara sequestered on her couch. Her breath hitched in her throat when a thin line of crimson drew a path down an ebony cheek. "Pam…"_

"_Put her on, Jess," Pam's voice beseeched, the blonde's naturally husky lilt hoarse with tears and guilt. "Please, little one."_

_This time Jessica couldn't stop the shaky sob that burst unrepentantly from her throat; in all the years she had known Pam, she had never once heard her so broken. So desolate. That coupled with the fact that the blonde had resorted to wielding her nickname for Jessica as a tool of persuasion resulted in the redhead's eyes blotting over with blood-tears. _

"_Hang on," Jessica murmured into the phone. She turned and crossed the small distance over to Tara, her eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to stave off tears that were threatening to send crisscross lines of ruby red to track down her pale cheeks. She came to a stop in front of the sitting vampire and bent down so that she was at eye level with her._

"_Tara?"_

_No response. _

_Jessica gulped at the devastated look in Tara's eyes; she knew her fellow vampire and Pam often fought but never once had a fight gotten so bad or so out of hand that it had rendered Tara to the state she was now in. _

_Broken. Shattered. Lost._

_Jessica worried the inside of her cheek and contemplated telling Pam that Tara wasn't ready to talk but when she caught wind of a slight sniffle from the blonde's end of the line, she sucked in a needless breath, girded her mental loins then timidly held out the phone._

"_Tara, it's Pa…"_

_An ebony arm lashed out, its movements so fast that the appendage was nothing more than a blur in the air. The back of Tara's hand connected with the phone, effectively knocking it out of Jessica's hand and sending it spinning at lethal speeds across the room. It flew at such velocity that the tiny device managed to embed itself into the brick walls of Jessica's Manhattan loft._

_Jessica flinched then winced when the phone turned projectile device crackled with static before falling silent. In its place, soft pings of falling brick, mortar and glass could be heard, their sound rather jarring in the otherwise silent apartment. _

"_I'll replace that," came Tara's voice and her tone was so robotic and flat that Jessica couldn't help but cringe. _

"_It doesn't matter," the redhead responded, her own voice tremulous. She cursed the break in her voice and fought to project a more soothing inflection but her voice failed her, her mouth simply opening and closing like a gasping fish out of water. _

_Jessica cinched her jaw and ran a worried hand through her red locks. Her brows furrowed as she tried to corral the chaotic musings in her head. Finally, she simply settled for tactile contact._

_It was an instantaneous mistake._

_Tara flinched like she'd be scalded and she shirked away from Jessica's outstretched hand as though it were a cobra ready to strike._

_Jessica recoiled in response and immediately retracted her hand; her arm flopped uselessly back at her side. "Tara…"_

"_Don't." Tara forced herself to look into Jessica's anxious and concerned cornflower blue eyes. "Please," she whispered hoarsely, her voice finally betraying her emotional turmoil by cracking slightly. "Just…don't."_

_xxxxxxxx_

_Back in Louisiana, Pam's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach upon hearing the dial tone. The sound was shrill to the blonde vampire's acute hearing and it seemed to carry note of mockery, as if it were taunting Pam for her inability to communicate with her progeny._

"_FUCK!"_

_The blonde hurled her cell clear across the room; it hit the full-length mirror with deadly accuracy causing both objects to shatter in unison. Shards of broken glass immediately littered the floor, its reflective surfaces catching the overhead light, causing the pieces to wink and twinkle._

_Pam paid the mess no mind, choosing instead to collapse at the foot of the bed. She buried her head in her hands, dry sobs wracking her lithe frame. Dry sobs turned into a torrent of heart wrenching cries and whimpers, followed in quick succession by streams of blood-tears that leeched through the cracks of her fingers in macabre lines of red._

_The blonde didn't know just how long she sat there, wallowing in her misery and defeat but when she felt the creep of dawn approach, she stood and moved to the bedside table where an ancient landline phone lay perched. _

_Picking up the receiver, she proceeded to smudge bloody stains all over the phone and its keypad as she punched in a number with shaking fingers. _

_It took a ring and a half for the person on the other end of the line to pick up._

"_Eric?" Pam's voice broke on the last syllable and fresh tears of rich crimson stroked its way down blood-stained cheeks. "Eric, _fader_,_ snälla," _she whimpered piteously into the phone, her bottom lip quivering, her shoulders shaking with effort to contain sobs that were clawing at the confines of her throat._

"_I need you."_

_xxxxxxxx_

_Eric simply held Pam to his chest, allowing her the physical comfort she so desperately craved. One of the blonde's hands had a tight grip on the front of his shirt, effectively wrinkling the hell out of the material but Eric paid it no mind. Instead, he pulled his progeny tighter to him, cradling her like one would a small child. The tall former Viking pressed soft kisses into her hair, murmuring nonsensical words in Old Swedish. _

"Fader_," Pam rasped into her maker's shoulder, her naturally husky voice so hoarse from tears that continued to shed that the blonde was barely coherent, even to Eric's vampiric hearing. "Eric, I fucked up."_

"_I know," came Eric's calm and simple reply. He wasn't going to coddle his progeny, wouldn't sugarcoat the harsh reality that was now Pam's life. As her maker, he owed it to her to deliver the brutal truth. "You were always callous when it came to matters of the heart, _mitt barn_." He reached up and smoothed a hand down Pam's blonde locks. "Now, you must reap the consequences of your actions."_

_Pulling back, Eric cupped Pam's blood-stained face in his hands. His thumbs fanned out to catch droplets of blood that clung to alabaster cheeks. "Do you love her?"_

_Pam nodded, fresh tears already beginning to well in her eyes. "She's __**everything**__, _fader_." A sob escaped from bee-stung lips. "I don't want to live without her."_

"_Then why are you still here?" Eric inquired, his voice chiding though sympathetic. In all the years he had been acquainted with Pam, never once had he seen her so despondent, so utterly lost. It broke his heart that the reason for his child falling apart at the seams was because of her own careless actions. _

"_You didn't see the look on her face," Pam intoned in a dull voice. Her entire frame shook as she recalled the look on Tara's face: destroyed. She had destroyed the only thing in the world that mattered to her. The very fact stabbed a stake through the blonde's heart._

"_I imagine it was similar to the look you bestowed upon me when I broke our bond, _mitt barn_," Eric reminded Pam softy, his own heart clenching as he too brought up the image of Pam's devastated face the second he had released her. The image still haunted him and would continue to do so for the rest of eternity. _

_However, the difference between him and Pam was that Eric had prepared Pam for her release. She may not have been completely willing but had abided to his wishes. Pam, in contrast, had released Tara in the heat of the moment, a careless slip of the tongue that was a result from a fight. Eric was also not Pam's lover when he had released her. Tara on the other hand…_

"_She looked at me like I had completely wiped out her world," Pam sobbed, clinging harder to Eric who tightened his arms in response. "I swore I would never hurt her like that. I __**swore**__ it, Eric," Pam continued, her voice rising slightly in pitch as anxiety and guilt drummed a toxic rhythm through her veins. "It was as good as a marital vow. I gave her my __**word**__ and I…I broke it!"_

"_Then fix it," Eric replied, his voice firming. He stared hard into Pam's cerulean blue eyes that were bloody with tears that were itching to fall. "The bond only makes up a part of your love, it does not encompass it." Sea blue-green eyes locked onto desolate and pain-riddled azure blue pools. "Go to her, _mitt barn_. Explain. Apologize. Beg if you have to."_

"_And if she doesn't want me back?"_

_The utter anguish in Pam's voice sliced a piece from Eric's heart and a crimson tear traced a lazy path down the Viking's cheek in response. He turned sad eyes onto his child, knowing the next words out of his mouth would ruin her._

"_Then you'll have to live with it."_

_xxxxxxxx_

_Pam raised a hand to the closed door, her arm trembling so hard that the muscles protested. Gritting her teeth, she rapped on the door three times in quick succession before dropping her shaking arm back down her side. _

_The door opened almost immediately and Pam was unprepared for the vicious slap that followed. _

_She staggered back as the force of a palm meeting her cheek with furious intent sent her face snapping sideways. _

"_How __**could**__ you?" Jessica hissed venomously as she stalked forward, forcing Pam to backpedal. The redhead kept moving forward until Pam was backed up against the hallway wall. Then she jabbed a finger into the blonde's face. "How could you do that to her, Pam?" she repeated, her voice one octave shy of a growl. "I thought you loved her!"_

"_I do love her!" Pam cried. She refused to defend herself against Jessica's angry spiel, knowing that it was well deserved. "Please, Jess. Let me talk to her," she pleaded, her glacial blue eyes pleading with the redhead. "Let me apologize."_

_Jessica scoffed and backed up until she was leaning against the frame of her front door. "You're too late," she stated coldly, folding her arms across her chest. _

_A frisson of fear rippled through Pam. "W-what do you mean?"_

"_She's gone," Jessica responded, her tone arctic. Cornflower blue eyes were steely with rage as they locked with pools of desperate cerulean blue. _

"_Tara's gone."_

_xxxxxxxx_

Pam awoke, gasping for needless breaths of air. Her right palm was pressed firmly on the spot above her heart, a gesture she often woke up to. And as always, the lack of that slight hum that was the maker/progeny bond resulted in her face crumbling. Tears choked the corners of her eyes, welling and blurring her vision before gravity pulled them down, drawing lines of rich ruby red down Pam's pale cheeks.

The blonde scrambled to right her mental equilibrium even as tears meandered down her face and her body quivered under the force of her near silent sobs. Tendrils of the horrific set of memories still clung to her conscious and Pam was thrown between bouts of heartache, panic, loss and fear.

Inhaling methodically through her mouth, she forced herself to calm down and took stock of her surroundings. She noted that the light-tight shutters were still drawn, surmised that London was still in the throes of daylight.

Then the realization of the events that occurred the night before struck her.

Pam whirled around so fast that she almost gave herself whiplash.

There was Tara, curled up in an almost fetal position on the other side of the bed. Pam noted the great abyss between their bodies and a pang of sadness trilled through her. Space was something that Pam neither wanted nor needed at that very moment but there was something about the way Tara angled her body away from Pam's that raised warning flags in the back of her head.

Pam sat up and drew her knees to her chest. Propping her chin on her knees, she stared at her former lover forlornly. Already, she could feel the heavy clap of exhaustion brought on from daytime weighing heavily on her body but Pam refused to surrender to the siren of sleep.

As Pam sat there and watched Tara sleep, blood began weeping from various orifices, blood that Pam frankly couldn't afford to shed. She paid her bleeding ears and weeping nose no mind, however as she stared longingly at Tara, internally debating with herself on whether to wake the slumbering vampire up.

Her body betrayed her by subconsciously inching slowly towards the dark-skinned vampire. Again, that clang of caution rang loud and long in her ears but Pam, so riddled with exhaustion and laden with such turbulent emotions that she gave in and threw caution to the wind.

An alabaster hand snaked out, intending to descend onto an ebony hued shoulder but before it could make contact, Tara was suddenly animate. The younger vampire grabbed the extended limb, clamped fingers down onto the wrist, then spun around only to throw Pam onto her back. Wild obsidian eyes were filled with feral intensity as they looked coldly down at the blonde. One knee was at Pam's throat, the blonde's wrist still enclosed within Tara's grip, which was one squeeze shy of breaking the bones.

Tara didn't seem to realize where she was or who she was holding down as she snarled at the prone vampire, her fangs elongated over her lips.

"Tara," Pam called out, her voice shaking with trepidation. The look in Tara's eyes was something she had never seen in her progeny before; they were cold, hard, _cruel_. In that very moment, Pam didn't recognize the woman who held her down. There was no trace of the Tara she knew; in her place was something…soulless.

The sight broke Pam's heart.

"Tara?'" Pam tried again, her voice deliberately low and soothing. She fought hard not to flinch as Tara growled menacingly down at her, fully cognizant that the younger vampire was operating on primal instinct.

"Tara, it's Pam." Pain licked at sensitive nerves that were rapidly fraying e as Tara applied pressure to her throat with her knee. "Tara, please," she whimpered as she felt the bones in her wrist begin to splinter. "Let me go."

Tara looked down at the blonde, trying in vain to shake the red haze of bloodlust from her mind. When she finally registered the absolutely petrified and pained look in Pam's winter-blue eyes, her entire body froze.

"Fuck!"

Letting Pam go, she vamp sped until she was back on the other side of the bed. She leapt off the bed and stood on shaky legs. "Shit, Pam, I'm sorry," she apologized, raking agitated fingers through her mused hair. The frightened look in Pam's eyes flashed through her mind's eye and she flinched in response. Never in her life did she ever think Pam would look at her that way. The thought sent a wave of disgust rolling through her veins and it was potent enough for her to want to throw up.

"It's okay," Pam mumbled, though her voice was still shaking slightly. She kept her eyes trained on Tara as she propped herself up to a sitting position, her movements sluggish and wary. She winced slightly as her bruised throat began throbbing and couldn't stop the slight gasp of pain when she tried to use the wrist Tara almost broke to better position herself against the headboard.

In an instant Tara was at her side. "Let me see," she demanded, holding out her hand. When Pam recoiled slightly from her close proximity, another wave of self-disgust washed down Tara's veins. She retreated a little, allowing the blonde some space. She watched, remorse and guilt alight in her dark eyes as Pam cradled her impressively bruised wrist to her chest.

"I'm sorry, Pamela," Tara whispered, her voice contrite. Regret was a sharp note in her apology.

"You're different," Pam murmured as she turned to look at Tara. Long, pale fingers absentmindedly stroked at the myriad of purple, blue and green blotches that adorned the circle of her wrist. "You're…" Many adjectives immediately flew to the forefront of her mind but she didn't dare voice them aloud for fear of offending the standing vampire.

"I know what I am," Tara couldn't help but snap. Self-loathing was the dark-skinned vampire's only companion these days, a constant reminder of the atrocities she had committed over a fifty-year span. She didn't need Pam to remind her that she was currently a shell of what she once was.

Pam shrank back as she observed the cold mask that dropped over Tara's face. The dead, empty look in the younger vampire's eyes made the hairs at the back of her neck stand and every instinct in Pam told her to get up and run.

But she didn't.

Silence lorded over the room as both vampires observed the other from their respective perches.

Tara was afraid to approach Pam, lest she add to the trauma the blonde sustained from last night. She had also noted the scared look in Pam's eyes; Pam was scared of _her_. The very thought made her sick and Tara had to fight tooth and nail not to just get up and leave.

Pam was still reeling from the emptiness she glimpsed in Tara's eyes; one thing she had always loved about Tara was the younger vampire's ability to retain her humanity. Today, Pam saw none of that compassion and liveliness that usually abounded in Tara's dark gaze and it shook her to the core.

Tara felt a wetness on her upper lip and realized that she was in the midst of The Bleeds. Sweeping a critical gaze down Pam's, she realized that the blonde was also bleeding heavily. Swiping away the small trickle of blood, she wrestled with her temper and tried to tame it back to a low simmer. "It's early, Pamela." Dark eyes betrayed nothing as they bore into hesitant and slightly apprehensive cobalt blue ones. "Let's just go back to sleep."

The dark-skinned vampire made her way back to her side of the bed and was about to clamber back on it when she caught sight of Pam watching her with uneasy eyes. Tara gritted her teeth, hating that she had put such skittishness in her maker's gaze.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Tara offered quietly, reaching over to snag the afghan on the foot of the bed.

Pam said nothing as she watched Tara toss the pillow over the edge of the bed. Their eyes met momentarily as Tara conveyed her shame and remorse to Pam before she disappeared from view.

A lone tear trickled down Pam's cheek as she slid back into bed. Last night, after she had successfully managed to prevent Tara from leaving, the blonde thought that they were finally getting somewhere.

Now, she realized that she hadn't even begun to scratch the surface of the dire consequences of their estrangement.

Her last coherent thought before sleep took her under was that that she didn't know who the woman who now slept on the floor was.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** – Thanks to everyone who took the time to leave a review. Had to bust my ass to finish this chapter because I'll be super busy this weekend, what with Thanksgiving and all and I didn't want to leave y'all hanging for too long. So, here's chapter 5; let me know what you think if you've got a moment to spare. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 5**

Tara leaned against the wall by the open window, her hand absentmindedly flicking away the stick of ash that accumulated at the end of her cigarette. Drawing her arm back inside, she took a long drag, let the tobacco-stained smoke linger in her lungs before releasing it in a slow succession of perfect smoke rings.

As Tara stood smoking, her obsidian eyes couldn't help but track over to her maker; Pam was still asleep, her frail, skeletal body mercifully hidden beneath a thick duvet, her face partially obscured by the mop of messy blonde hair that had tumbled over her cheek in her sleep. Two hours after dusk and the older vampire was still in the clutches of slumber. It was a marker of just how depleted the blonde's body was of its resources.

Tara sucked angrily on her cigarette and blew its fumes out from her nostrils. She was mad that her absence had rendered her maker to the pitiful state she now was. She mad that Pam had _allowed_ her depression and misery to escalate this far. But most of all, she was mad that all she seemed capable of feeling these days was rage and anger.

"Fuck this," Tara muttered, her voice sub-vocal. Needing an outlet for the blistering heat of rage that had been simmering within her for the last fifty years, Tara stubbed the burning end of her cigarette on the inside of her palm. She watched, completely unfeeling as the glowing end of the still lit bud burned a neat little circle into her flesh, causing it to sizzle. The acrid smell of burning flesh pierced the air, a sharp, unpleasant scent that had Tara's keen sense of smell recoiling in disgust but the vampire showed no outward sign of repulsion. She simply watched as the cigarette bud snuffed itself out and her charred skin re-stitched itself.

The brief reprieve that the pain of burning her flesh brought her proved far too fleeting. She needed a more a satisfying release. Flicking the cigarette bud out the window, Tara padded silently across the room to the coat rack. She was about to shrug on her leather duster when Pam stirred.

"Tara?"

Pam's discombobulated tone was infused with the harsh ring of fear and Tara felt her shoulders slump in response. "I'm here," she replied, her voice soft as she returned her coat back onto the rack. She would have to hunt another time.

Tara made her way slowly to the bed, her movements deliberately measured. She also made sure to stay in Pam's line of sight, lest she startle or scare her maker. As the dark-skinned vampire approached Pam, she couldn't help but compare her maker to that of a skittish deer; one false move and the blonde was sure to bolt. Or worse, Pam would look at Tara like that she did early that morning: with abject terror. She never wanted to see that look on Pam's face again, never wanted to be the _cause_ of putting that expression on her maker's face again.

"Hey," she greeted. She sat on the foot of the bed, ensuring that a respectable distance was kept between their bodies. "Sleep well?"

Pam shrugged noncommittally and reached up to brush wayward locks of mused blonde hair away from her face. As she did so, Tara immediately caught sight of the blonde's still bruised wrist and she growled in response, which caused Pam to flinch.

"You need blood," Tara stated curtly. She stood and made her way to the far corner of the room where a simple kitchenette lay. It really was nothing more than a sink with a retractable table, a microwave and a mini-bar. Tara opened the latter the sparse contents of the mini-bar had her hissing and her back to go ramrod straight.

"Do you have a death wish?" she addressed Pam, her voice acidic as she plucked out a bottle and waved it in front of her. "What the _hell_ are you doing with _Ruby Reds_, Pamela?" Tara had to fight the urge not to smash the detestable product into the sink; Pam was already looking at her with wide eyes that were cloudy with trepidation.

"It's the cheapest blood on the market," the blonde returned, her voice passive. She propped herself against the headboard and idly picked at the duvet that covered her thighs.

"And _that_ is exactly why vamps stand a higher chance of getting Hep D from this tainted shit. Damn it, Pam!" This time, anger was a live wire that whipped at her nerves and Tara responded by hurling her bottle into the sink; it exploded on impact, shards of glass pinging and bouncing off the walls of the sink that were coated with thick splashes of crimson.

The iron-y tang of blood seeped into the air and Tara couldn't help but snarl in disgust as her keen nose picked up a repulsive mix of human, artificial and what smelled like cat blood. She turned on the faucet and rinsed out the sink then gathered the broken pieces in her hand before tossing it into the trash.

"This is going to stop. Right. _Now_." Tara's voice was dangerous as bored dark eyes into dull cobalt blue. "You are not going to live like this," she continued as she fished her cell phone out of her jeans' pocket.

"When I told you once that I didn't want to live without you –" Tara's back went rigid but Pam pressed on unrepentant. "I meant it."

"Don't," Tara snapped harshly. "Spare me the emotional blackmail." She flipped her cell open, her movements so vicious that she almost tore the cover of her cell off. Glaring at Pam, she scrolled through a list of contacts, jabbed at the one she wanted then shoved the phone against her ear.

"Donor UK, how may I help you?" came a lilting British female's voice.

"Tara Thornton, speaking. I'd like to place an order," Tara replied, her voice still on the wrong side of pissed off but she did not attempt to sound friendly.

"Your mobile phone's location states that you are calling from London," the operator rattled off. "Please hold while I connect you to our London division."

Tara drummed impatient fingers against the counter by the sink as the waiting tone trilled through the phone. Her eyes were expressionless save for that dark glint of vehemence as she scrutinized Pam from across the room.

Pam simply ducked her head in response, her blonde hair curtaining the sides of her face.

"Donor London, how may I take your order?"

"I need an AB- donor," Tara ordered promptly.

"Virgin, Vintage or Contemporary?"

"Virgin," Tara said. "And preferably female," she added.

"Very well, miss," the operator replied. "And will you be drinking from the femoral, jugular or cephalic vein?"

"Femoral."

There was the clacking of keys on the other end of the line before the operator's voice returned. "Your mobile phone states that you are calling from 22 Westminster Street, Apartment Block G, Apartment 22. Is this correct?"

"Yup."

"Very good, miss. Delivery time should take around fifteen minutes. Thank you for calling Donor London."

The line went dead and Tara clapped her cell shut before slipping it back into her pocket.

"You didn't need to do that. Donors' is expensive," Pam pointed out, her voice quiet. She slipped out of bed and Tara looked away, unable to bear the sight of the blonde's frail and depleted body. Guilt was a blatant mask over her otherwise hard features but she'd be damned if she was going to let Pam see it.

"You need to feed," was the dark-skinned vampire's reply. She watched from the corner of her eye as Pam shrugged on a heavy robe then moved to close the open window. The blonde's movements were sluggish and her hand shook slightly as she wrestled against the stubborn blast of wind that seemed hell bent on keeping the window open.

Tara blurred over to Pam and dropped her hand over the blonde's. A bolt of electricity shocked a path down her arm as their skins touched but Tara ignored it. She helped Pam pull the window close then retreated back to the other end of the room.

Pam didn't say a word as she watched Tara walk away from her. If she was being completely honest, she was glad for the distance between them. The vampire across the room wasn't her progeny, or at least it wasn't the Tara _she_ knew all those years ago.

This Tara was different. Cold, unfeeling and burning with wrath, this Tara might as well be a stranger to Pam. The blonde had only managed to catch glimpses of her progeny in brief snatches over the past twenty-four hours. Fleeting snippets that felt akin to trying to remember the last vestiges of a dream that niggled at the back of one's head but was blurry and untraceable.

The sound of the doorbell roused Pam out of her internal musings. The blonde watched as Tara fished a slim wallet out of her hanging jacket's pocket then made her way to the door. Pulling it open, she stepped aside to let in the Donor and her Guardian.

Guardians were assigned to Donors as a measure of security. Often, they were vampires themselves and highly trained in weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Their sole goal was to protect the wellbeing of their assigned Donor.

This guardian, Pam noted, was a walking block of muscle. Corded bunches of it rippled under his tailored suit and keen and intelligent eyes scanned his surroundings as he guided his charge into the room.

"Delivery for a Ms. Tara Mae Thornton?" he rumbled, his voice so low it sounded as though he were gargling rocks.

"Yeah," Tara spoke as she closed the door.

The Guardian produced a rolled up sheet of paper, which he unfurled with a practiced flick of his wrist. He held it out to her. "Sign here, please."

Tara dropped fang, pricked her thumb then pressed it on the dotted line at the end of the contract.

The Donor Contract doubled as an alibi as well as an added measure of security. It was not only physical proof of the voluntary blood exchange between Donor and vampire but it also held the vampire legally responsible should the Donor suffer grievous injury or death.

"Thank you, Ms. Thornton." The Guardian rolled up the contract, tucked it away then pulled out a slim credit card scanner. "That'll be £157.95, please."

Tara dutifully swiped her credit card then tucked it back into her wallet. She turned to Pam, who showed no signs of moving. "Pam," she called out to her maker. "Dinner," she announced.

Pam watched as the Donor approached the bed, sat down on it then untied her robe. Her Guardian stood sentinel by the foot of the bed, examining Pam with unreadable eyes.

"Tara…"

Tara blurred over to Pam, who shrank back slightly at the abrupt arrival of the younger vampire. "You _need_ to feed," her progeny insisted. Her voice was low, the simmer of anger already skimming the surface of her Southern lilt but there was also a note of desperation. "Please," she implored the unmoving blonde. "For me."

"I haven't fed on a human in fifty years," Pam revealed softly. She looked up at Tara, who looked simultaneously shocked and unsurprised. Blue eyes were equal shades of pleading and terrified as they focused on the younger vampire. "What if I lose control?"

"I'm right here," Tara assured the blonde. She curled supple fingers over Pam's elbow and gently but firmly guided her to the Donor. The Donor, barely on the cusp of womanhood was watching the approaching vampires with slightly wary eyes.

"First time?" Tara inquired conversationally, catching the apprehensive look in the teenager's eyes. She sat Pam down by the Donor's side.

"No but I'm still rather new at this," the Donor replied. She extended her leg then turned it slightly so that her inner thigh was revealed.

"We're not going to hurt you," Tara soothed. She stared at the exposed thigh hungrily but curbed her desire to sink her fangs into that creamy flesh. "Pamela, drink," she addressed her maker. When Pam hesitated, Tara gave in and cupped her cheek. "It's just like riding a bike, baby," she murmured, her voice deliberately seductive. She tracked her fingers down a hollowed cheek and danced the pad of her thumb over Pam's full lower lip. "I just need you to drop fang and take a sip." Dark eyes were beseeching as they gazed into deep pools cerulean blue. "Please."

Pam was relishing the feel of Tara touching her so tenderly that she almost forgot what she was supposed to do. She inhaled and immediately the smell of fresh virgin blood assaulted her senses, causing all her primal instincts to come and play. Her fangs distended and she growled slightly, saliva pooling in her mouth.

"Easy," Tara instructed. She watched as Pam lowered her head then smoothed a hand over the back of her maker's head. "That's it," she encouraged. "Drink."

The sense of euphoria that washed over Pam was a heady and potent cocktail as her fangs sank into the vulnerable flesh of the Donor's thigh. Rich, thick blood gushed from the twin wounds, starbursting onto her tongue like fine wine. Pam moaned as she began suckling harder, the taste of virgin blood an exquisite, almost religious experience for her heavily starved body.

Tara observed Pam carefully as she fed, well aware that the Guardian had inconspicuously maneuvered his gloved hand to the gun that was concealed under his tailored jacket. One wrong move from either vampire and he'd riddle them with silver-nitrate filled bullets.

When the Donor's Pulse Watch, beeped, indicating the slowing of her pulse, Tara eased Pam back. Noting the dazed look in her maker's eye, she picked Pam up and settled her on the other side of the bed.

As she did so, the Guardian made his way over to his charge, distended his own fangs, pricked his forefinger then rubbed his blood over the wounds Pam's fangs made. He plucked a small bottle from his jacket and handed it to her. He watched as she unscrewed its top, drank heartily from it until it was drained of its contents.

"Are you fit to move?" the Guardian asked his Donor. At her nod, he helped her off the bed, offered Tara and Pam a cursorily nod then ushered him and the Donor out.

"Feel better?" Tara questioned as the door snicked close. She picked up the wrist she had bruised, noted that the skin around it was back to its smooth alabaster hue then returned it back onto the bed.

"I think I may be slightly drunk," Pam admitted, her words slurring slightly. Her eyes bore a glazed look as she peered up at Tara. "It's quite an odd feeling."

"Well, that's to be expected considering you were plying your body with piss poor excuse for nourishment," Tara retorted, her voice cutting. She immediately regretted her harsh tone when Pam's eyes dulled. "Sorry," she apologized.

"No, you're not," Pam mumbled as she cast her eyes away from her progeny. The slight buzz she received from her first feeding from the source was fast fading in wake of Tara's ire. "You never say anything you don't mean," she observed. "Always so quick to let the first thought roll right off your tongue."

Tara stood abruptly, any trace of contriteness fizzling out in response to Pam's words. Her eyes hardened. "Oh and you're always so careful with what _you_ say," she spat out. "Has it been so long that you forget how you used to respond to everyone and everythang with cutting remarks and sarcasm? Oh wait," Tara interrupted herself. "It_ has_ been that long," she jeered. "Tell me something, _Pamela_; when was the last time you actually had a conversation with someone?"

Pam's silence only added fuel to the fire. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Tara stalked over to the window, her gait forceful and angry. Then just as quickly, she spun back around, the look on her face murderous. "What is this, huh?" Tara gestured around the Spartan room. "Wallowing in self-pity, starving yourself, living in a shithole; what the _fuck_ are you trying to achieve?!"

Pam didn't speak, didn't try to defend her actions and it only served to make Tara more incensed. "Did you really think that all of this –" she gesticulated at her surroundings. "–would get me to come crawling back to you?"

"You're here aren't you?" Pam's voice was unapologetic and for the first time, her own gaze was burning with contempt and tinged with resentment. She locked Prussian blue eyes onto a pair of seething obsidian ones.

"_Fuck you_," Tara snarled. She blurred over to Pam and towered over her, uncaring of how her suddenly close proximity caused her maker to flinch slightly. "_You_ don't get to play the guilt card. I'm not the one who got us into this fuckin' mess. It was _you_ who released me." Dark eyes were incendiary with righteous fury as they zeroed in on Pam. "_You_ threw away everything because you couldn't keep your fuckin' pride in check! You always had to have the last say, always needed to be in control, always expected everyone to just fall in line." Tara barked out a disbelieving laugh. "Well, I'm sorry, Pam but I'm nobody's lap dog and I won't play the subservient role, not even for you."

With that, Tara stood and marched across the room to the coat rack. She yanked her trench coat off its hook and was about to shrug it on when Pam spoke up.

"And there you go again." Pam's voice, which over the past twenty-four hours had been demure and passive was now biting, her dry Southern drawl suddenly firmly in place.

"G'wan," Pam goaded, her tone bitter as she watched Tara whirled around to face her. The blonde's face was more animate than it had been in over fifty years as anger, disappointment, disgust and disbelief ran rampant across her features and clouded the blue of her eyes. "Run away. _Again_. That's what you always do when things go bad." The blonde shook her head and a resentful laugh bubbled from her throat. "Every time we fought, you'd always be the one to walk away. Every time the going got tough, you'd tuck tail and run. And look at you," she taunted. "You're still the same, even after all these years. Still running away from your problems."

"Go screw yourself," Tara hissed vehemently. She pulled her jacket on. "I don't have to stay here and listen to this shit. What you do with your life, or lack thereof, is none of my fuckin' business anymore. You can starve yourself to death for all I care."

Pam vamp sped over to Tara and backed her up against the door. Her legs were shaky and her strength was far from optimal but anger and adrenaline were proving to be more than feasible backups. "And you can go on being the self-indulgent, spoiled brat that you always were," Pam spat out. "I was right that night; you _did_ need to grow up." She backed away from Tara. "But apparently, that's something you seem to be incapable of doing." Blue eyes were luminescent with fury as she stared Tara down. "The world _doesn't_ revolve around you, Tara. _Grow. Up_."

Something snapped inside of Tara then. All of that pain, the anger, the resentment that had been kept in a pressure cooker that had finally reached the end of its capacity. It exploded in a grand display of bloodlust, surging through Tara's veins like a toxic fume until she couldn't think or see straight.

Lunging forward, Tara was completely unrecognizable with her feral eyes and primal snarl as she reached out and threw Pam clear across the room; the blonde hit the far wall with a sickening thump and she sank onto the floor in an unceremonious heap. Tara followed the blonde's trajectory with a predatory gait then descended upon her maker's crumpled body with elongated fangs and the promise of True Death burning from her soulless coal-black eyes…

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** – Happy holidays, guys! Apologies for the long wait between this chapter and the last but ya know, holidays, families, crazy holiday shenanigans that turns everyone into a rabid, raving _lunatic_. Anyhoo, thank you all for your overwhelming reviews for chapter 5. Like, WOW! Here's chapter 6 for you. Happy reading.

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**Chapter 6**

Tara sounded like the wounded, vicious creature she was as she stood over Pam's crumpled body, her lips pulled back into a feral snarl, her fangs distended and glistening menacingly. Her eyes were murderous, twin pits of pitch that were iridescent with primal rage. Her body was at a half crouch, her hands twin fists on either side of her. Her entire frame was shaking, intermittent rabid snarls and growls emanating from the depths of her throat as she eyed Pam with malicious intent.

"Do it," Pam whispered, her voice completely broken, defeated. She stared up at Tara, no longer able to recognize the vampire that towered before her. Her Tara was gone; the realization was brutal and it tore a ragged hole in what was left of her bleeding heart. She was resigned to her fate, however, as Tara closed in on her.

Do it," the blonde repeated, her voice measured and eerily calm. A lone tear meandered down a pale cheek. "You're not mine anymore. You're not Tara," she choked out, her voice ragged with tears. "And I don't want to live in a world where Tara doesn't exist." She leaned heavily against the wall and exposed the side of her neck, a sacrificial offering. "Kill me," Pam said.

Tara took a step forward, her arm cocked back, her fingers fashioned into claws. She stared down at Pam who looked back up at her resolutely. The anguish she found in those cerulean blue eyes, coupled with abject resignation sent a stab of unholy pain through Tara. It broke through the red-tinged cloud of bloodlust, clearing the crimson smoke from her eyes.

"No…" The dark-skinned vampire stared down at Pam in horror. Finally registering her position over her maker and what she was about to do, Tara backpedaled, her fangs retracting so hard, it was borderline painful. "No…" The back of her legs hit the side of the bed and the impact upset her equilibrium, sending Tara crumbling to the floor. She scrambled further back, sending the legs of the bed to go screeching across the hardwood floors. "Pam…"

"You're not Tara," Pam whispered, her voice laden with pain. Her agonized inflection flitted across the room, freezing the younger vampire's movements; Tara stopped and stared across the room at Pam, her eyes betraying her utter shock and horror at almost having killed the blonde just mere moments ago.

"I am Tara." Tara was sinking, the roaring in her ears crippling and her breaths coming out in harsh albeit needless pants. She brought her knees up to her chest, hugged them tightly to her front. In that moment, she looked like a wayward child, her eyes skittering back and forth in her face as she struggled to regain her sense of identity. "I'm Tara…" she repeated, though her voice was empty of conviction and she sounded more lost and confused than anything. She began rocking back and forth, the action a desperate attempt to calm the storm that raged inside of her.

"What's happened to you?" Pam pulled herself into a similar position. She stared sadly at her former lover; the way Tara hugged herself was heartbreaking and it bespoke of deep emotional and mental trauma. Trauma Pam knew, she played a part in manifesting. "You're so…_cruel_." Another line of red drew a thin path down her cheek. "I remember the look in your eye back in the alley. You _enjoyed_ inflicting pain on that man," Pam whispered, her voice tinged with dismay.

"He was going to rape you." Tara's voice was unapologetic though her demeanor remained submissive and vulnerable against the side of the bed. Across the room, Pam flinched violently at the word; it was too bold a reminder of how close she had come to being sexually assaulted.

"He was going to _hurt_ you." Tara's voice trailed off into a dangerous growl and her right hand clenched into a tight fist, her nails cutting half moons into the inside of her palm. "He deserved it," she finished, her voice low.

Pam sniffled and pressed her back more firmly against the wall. "Fifty years ago you would have never reacted with such vindictiveness towards anyone who hurt me. You would have never even entertained the thought of _torture_. Not at the cost of the humanity you always held so dear." Blue eyes were endlessly sad as they sought out a pair of desolate and empty obsidian ones. "Now…now, you've lost everything I ever loved about you." A sob burst forth from bee-stung lips and Pam's shoulders shook in an effort to contain it.

_Another empty promise  
Good intentions from the start  
You failed to mention  
Our love would be this hard_

"I'm sorry." Tara hung her head and the tears that welled in her eyes upon Pam's words immediately fell. They crisscrossed down ebony cheeks, collected in drops at the line of her jaw before they rained down like tiny rubies onto her upraised knees. "Pamela, I'm so sorry." She lifted her head and her tormented bitter chocolate eyes were infused with decades of regret as they locked onto anguished Prussian blue. "For everything."

"We're never going to be able to fix this, are we?" Tears tracked down Pam's cheeks as she propped her chin onto her knees. Her starved frame shook violently as a torrent of sobs streamed through her lips. "I started this but you…you took it to the point of no return." Another pitiful cry escaped the blonde and it sent a cold spike through Tara. "I don't want to fight with you anymore, Tara." Pam's eyes conveyed her acceptance of defeat and resignation. "It's not worth it." Blue eyes slipped shut, sending smidgens of tears to tumble down her cheeks. "It hurts too much."

_I'm tired of talkin'  
Don't have nothing left to say  
Maybe sometime  
We'll sift through the ashes one day_

"Is that what you want?" Tara felt as though her heart were breaking all over again. Her lower lip quivered and sobs of her own were an acidic bite in the back of her throat. "You want to just call it quits?"

"You are not the woman I would crawl on bended knee to seek forgiveness anymore." Pam's brows furrowed in pain as she stared at Tara across the room. Tara flinched at her maker's harsh words. "I don't know you. I don't _want_ to know this you."

_I can't lean on you_  
'_Cause I'll fall right over  
Can't count on you  
It doesn't add up_

"Words will never be able to express just how sorry I am for releasing you, Tara." Pam's eyes were still bloody with tears that trailed lazily down her face but there was a clearness in those winter-blue depths. A clearness that conveyed her deep acceptance of the life she was now living. This was her reality. She was finally embracing it.

"I won't ask for your forgiveness; I don't want it." The blonde glanced over at Tara who looked a hair's breadth away from complete physical, mental and emotional collapse. "But I don't think I want you either anymore," she admitted in an agonized rasp. "Not like this. Not the way you are."

_I see we're through  
And the truth it pretty sober  
This is going nowhere,  
Enough is enough_

Tara whimpered and hugged her knees tighter to her chest. For the first time since their reunion, the dynamics of their interactions changed; Pam was speaking with a dogged strength that had previously been absent whilst Tara was now the one broken and bleeding on the floor.

Silence pervaded the room for a while, the atmosphere between the huddled vampires tense and heavy with words still unsaid. Neither made an attempt to move, neither quelled or stifled the odd sob or cry that tore unrepentant from their throats.

It was Tara who finally spoke, the younger vampire unable to stand the awful silence between them.

"I shouldn't have run." She peered across the room at Pam who was staring morosely at the floor, tears of dark crimson streaking down her cheeks. "Pamela, please," Tara implored, desperation coloring her tone when Pam declined to oblige. "Look at me."

Pam shook her head and dipped it further down until her chin almost touched her chest. "I can't," she husked, her voice imbued with tears. "I can't look at you." She squeezed her eyes shut, the action causing smatterings of ruby droplets to skitter down her face. "I can't stand the sight of what you've become."

"You broke my heart." Tara choked on a sob and she leaned heavily against the side of the bed, needing the physical support. "You broke it so completely that I didn't know _how_ to deal with the pain."

_That hardest part, in my choice to leave  
Was not quite knowing what I achieved_

"All I kept hearing was you saying…those words." Tara couldn't bring herself to voice aloud the three hateful words that turned their world upside down. "It was on loop in my head, repeating itself over and over. I thought I would go crazy from it."

"You never even gave me a chance to make things right between us." Pam was speaking into her knees and though her husky lilt was garbled, Tara's acute hearing more than compensated for it. "I was ready to _beg_ for your forgiveness, ready to throw away my honor, my pride, my self-respect, my _soul_ just for you to come back to me." She sniffled and swallowed a pained cry. "But you just left. You disappeared, Tara." Pam lifted her head and the resentment in her eyes was almost a corporal entity, reaching across the room to slap Tara clean across the face. "You disappeared and left me to deal with the mess. Alone."

_I can't lean on you_  
'_Cause I'll fall right over_

"I'm sorry." The two words were fast becoming a mantra as they tumbled hurriedly from Tara's mouth. "I wasn't thinking, I _couldn't_ think. I couldn't function. I needed…I needed space."

_Can't count on you  
It doesn't add up_

"Space?" Pam barked out a disbelieving laugh. "You needed _fifty_ years of space?!" Blue eyes were arctic as they bore into Tara. "You were a _coward_ is what you were. You wanted to punish me, wanted to lay all the blame at my feet." A shaking hand swiped a vicious path across her bloodied cheeks, smearing red over her alabaster skin. "Well, congratulations, Tara. Mission accomplished. We are well and thoroughly _fucked_."

_I see we're through  
And the truth is pretty sober_

"Don't forget who started this," Tara hissed, her anger returning to her in potent waves. She hoisted herself into a better sitting position, one that didn't scream vulnerability and defeat. "YOU released ME. You fucked up EVERYTHING!"

"AND YOU BOLTED LIKE THE SCARED, INSECURE LITTLE GIRL WE BOTH KNOW YOU ARE!" Pam screamed back. She picked herself up off the floor, unwilling to show Tara anymore of her pain. "How many times are we going to sing this fuckin' tune, Tara? Huh? How many times?!" She braced herself against the wall, her shaking legs threatening to send her knees buckling. "I fucked up, I _know_ that. I acknowledge it. But do YOU realize the consequence of YOUR actions? Do you realize that you fucked up our relationship by disappearing off the face of the earth?" Pale hands were trembling violently as they tugged agitated fingers through mused blonde locks. "How the HELL was I supposed to apologize, to fix what I broke between us if you weren't there? You. Weren't. There!"

_This is going nowhere  
Enough is enough_

"Fine. FINE. I screwed up. I was scared. I was hurt. I felt _betrayed_. You singlehandedly managed to do with three words what nobody, not even _Franklin_ managed to make me feel."

Pam's arctic glue gaze turned granite hard upon Tara's mention of Franklin. "Do. _NOT_. Compare. Me. To. _Him_." There was an aura of malice around Pam's suddenly rigid body as she recalled one of the worst nights of her life: when Tara finally shared with her maker, the sordid past that was Franklin. Even now, the mere mention of that vampire's name stirred up a rage in Pam that was unprecedented and all-consuming.

Tara brought herself up to quivering legs. Her eyes were hard, the features on her face contorted with bitterness and contempt. "You made me feel like _nothing_. Like I wasn't worth shit. One stupid, idiotic fight and you cast me away like I was nothing more than yesterday's trash." Tara clenched her teeth, gritted them so hard that the grinding of her molars was audible. "You want to know the real reason I left? Why I never looked back?" Eyes so dark that not even the midnight sky could rival it were flashing black fire as they glared at Pam.

Azure blue eyes throbbed with grief. "Yes."

"Because I didn't think there was anything worth staying for."

_I made up my mind  
I won't have a change of heart  
I've removed myself from every single part of you_

Tara's words cut right through Pam, a honed silver blade that carved a jagged path straight through her soul. The blonde fought against every instinct that shrieked at her to cry, scream, break down on the floor. Instead, she held her composure and dropped a neutral mask on her face. She ignored the deep grooves Tara's words raked across her soul, stamped down on the pain screeching from her overly abused heart. She straightened her posture, pushed away from the wall.

"So this is it then." Pam's voice was awash with pain but resignation was a darker, more poignant note through her husky vowels.

_I can't lean on you_

Tara nodded, her own unbeating heart feeling like it was about to gnaw a bloody path out of the confines of her chest. "This is it."

_I can't count on you_

"We're over." Pam's eyes were a tempest of steel-blue and cobblestone gray, the contrasting colors swirling around in an almost hypnotic fashion. "We're done."

Tara nodded again, her throat bobbing up and down in an effort to stave off anguished cries that were clawing at the walls of her throat. "Done," she echoed, her voice nothing more than a pained rasped. "Finished."

_I lean on you,  
I fall right over_

"Fine." Pam's body betrayed her inner turmoil by clenching the hand that lay on her right; nails, blunt as they were, dug deep into the soft flesh of her palm, cutting through skin to allow blood to weep from the crescent marks. The sting of pain was a welcomed relief and the blonde dug her nails in harder, her fist so tightly clenched that the skin on her knuckles glowed a ghostly white.

_I count on you,  
It doesn't add up_

Tara swallowed. _Hard_. She forced legs the consistency of Jell-O to move and managed to round the corner of the bed before her booted feet rebelled and planted its soles firmly onto the hardwood floors. She made no attempts to reanimate them however, as she stood there with her back to her maker.

"This is what you…we, want…right?" The dark-skinned vampire's voice was quiet, her tone so low and quivering so much that it was barely audible. "I mean…" Tara swallowed against the growing lump in her throat. "This is the right thing to do."

_Yeah, I see we're through  
The truth is pretty sober_

"Yes." Pam's voice was lost in a sea of pain, its owner already in the clutches of an agony the blonde wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. She wanted Tara to leave, wanted her gone so she could just double over and sob and cry and scream until there was nothing left to sob and cry and scream about.

_This is going nowhere  
Enough is enough_

"Okay…okay." Tara's voice was hoarse, her vocal chords strained to the point of pain from vocalizing all her tremulous emotions. She forced her feet to move and almost stumbled over her boots in her haste to put some distance between her and Pam. "I'm just…I'm gonna go."

Pam watched as Tara moved with the stiff gait of an old man. She watched as Tara took two unsteady steps, faltered, froze then repeated the process. Blue eyes were washed out with abject sadness as she noted the way Tara's slumped shoulders shook. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. If nothing else, she wanted to at least bid her former lover, her progeny, her _everything_ a final farewell. She owed Tara, owed _herself_ the luxury of saying goodbye.

Pam swallowed, her throat working furiously as she fought against the stubborn lump in her throat that was impending her ability to speak. She closed her eyes, sucked in a much-needed breath and allowed one single tear to race down her cheek.

"Goodbye…Tara."

_Yeah, enough is enough_

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N 2 -** Song used is _Enough is Enough_ by The Eli Young Band


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** – This chapter is admittedly a little shorter than the others but it was done to keep the "flavor" of the chapter. Plus, it's a little intense and to tell you the truth I was _exhausted_ after writing it. That said, I want to thank everyone who took the time to leave a review; you know I appreciate all your kind words and your continued support. Happy reading.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"_Goodbye, Tara."_

The words felt akin to being kissed by a silver-tipped whip and Tara flinched violently as it flayed away layers of skin, sinew, muscle and bone. It exposed the vulnerable flesh of her unbeating heart, licked multiple grooves across the defenseless muscle until it was nothing more than a raw, chafed, bleeding lump.

Tara pressed a heavy hand to her chest, trying in vain to stave off the shrill notes of anguish and pain that sang the most awful anthem of sorrow. The melody was so bitter, the tone so mournful that it was all Tara could do not to crumble onto the floor in a fetal position. She tried to force feet that felt as though they were encased in lead to move but they refused, the soles of her boots rooted to the ground by some unknown force.

Pam observed her progeny's physical hesitation, noted the way Tara warred with herself. She saw the way the younger vampire's posture slant forward, wanting to move but her lower body betrayed her by remaining stubbornly still. She watched as Tara's shoulders stiffened, her spine a rigid line as her head ducked down, no doubt to allow eyes the color of pitch to glare at her motionless feet.

What the blonde didn't expect was for Tara to suddenly turn around and pounce on her. The force of her progeny's body colliding into her own could have fell buildings fashioned from steel. Fear was a very real, very corporeal entity as Tara slammed her up against the wall. It slithered through her, polluting her veins and shocking frayed nerves into high drive. Panic followed, bringing with it a miasma of claustrophobia, uncertainty, terror and paralysis.

However, when Tara fused her lips to Pam's, kissing her with a desperation and an intensity that was white-hot and blistering, the blonde pushed away every iota of fear, every grain of panic. She shut off the voices in her head that screamed at her that what they were doing was wrong. She let reason bleed out of sight, imprisoned logic into the dark corners of her mind and drove away every instinct that begged her to pull away.

Then she kissed Tara back.

It was not a kiss of love, of tenderness, of pleasure.

What it was, was an act birthed from the cradle of despair.

Pam let Tara press her into the wall, well aware that the cheap materials used to structure it were cracking and crumbling under her back. She gripped handfuls of sable hair that tickled either side of her face and yanked Tara's lips more forcefully against her own.

Tara followed Pam's movements, her front pressing so fully against her maker's that not a sliver of air could be granted access. She wrenched Pam's lips open with furious strokes of her tongue, dived into the wet cavern of the blonde's mouth and dominated every crease and crevice she found.

Pam bit down hard on Tara's lower lip, drawing blood and distending both their fangs. Their teeth clacked hard against each other, their sharp incisors tearing into plump, bruised flesh as they kissed with the ferocity of an enraged storm.

Tara felt as though she were being burned alive, as if hell's fire had crawled up from beneath its prison of earth and soil only to wrap its searing tendrils of fiery orange-red around her body. Her body was so feverish, so hot, burning at such an uncontrollable rate that the pain of it was devastatingly acute.

Tears sprang unbidden from her tightly shut eyes as she pressed impossibly closer into her maker's body, her mouth slipping and sliding over Pam's blood-stained lips. Short of trying to crawl into her maker's skin, Tara began roaming desperate hands over any inch of exposed flesh available to her. When her scorching skin touched cool alabaster smoothness, the respite was brief and fleeting, the coolness of Pam's body providing the merest of reprieves before hell's fire broke over it, igniting her ebony skin once more.

Pam was lost asunder in a world of pain. Pain so real, so sharp, so excruciating that she thought she might just die from its otherworldly sensation. Everywhere Tara touched her sent mouths of agony zipping through her body. They were like parasites, landing on sensitized nerves and sinking their pointed, merciless teeth into them. They injected poison into her veins, breathed toxic fumes of grief into her muscles until they atrophied.

But still she pulled Tara into her, pulled her so close and so tight that their fronts were flushed up against each other. Her eyes wept bold streaks of rich crimson as limbs of snow-white encircled Tara like alabaster vines, its hands snaking to the hem of Tara's shirt only to sneak beneath its opening. Fingers raked blunt nails up ebony skin before pads of individual digits traced the line of Tara's spine and squeezed at back and shoulder muscles that quivered and shook and shivered under her touch.

Tara returned her mouth to Pam's after a brief but thorough exploration of the smooth column of her neck. Blood dripped from multiple puncture wounds made by Tara's indecisive fangs down the side of the blonde's neck, her body still too weak to close the injuries immediately.

Tara ignored the mess she made of Pam's neck, choosing instead to smash her lips against the blonde's, her fangs cutting twin lines of red up the blonde's chin in the progress. The kiss sent the pair spiraling down an avenue of pain, leaving them so dizzy and so laden with sorrow that Pam's knees buckled and Tara had to steady herself by gripping at Pam's shoulders.

They didn't speak as they ravaged each other with lips, teeth, tongue and fangs. Words were useless at this point, every syllable, phrase and sentence exhausted from its arsenal. Silence was a heavy cloak in the air, interrupted sporadically by harsh pants, sharp intakes of breaths and pain-filled gasps.

Tara's lips were a jerky paintbrush, drawing lines of melancholy across Pam's injured lips. They brushed broad strokes of pain across the blonde's jaw, dotted splotches of regret across a smooth cheek then whispered a splash of apology over a furrowed brow until the features on her maker's face was a picture of torment.

Pam felt every painful caress of Tara's blood-painted lips on her skin and she returned them with fervor, needing to return every heightened emotion, every ounce of agony. Everywhere her lips touched ebony skin, it burned her, Tara's flesh an expanse of smoldering coals that seared her mouth, blackened her tongue and polluted her throat with the fumes grief and shame.

Tara pulled Pam away from the wall, and her lips still attached to Pam's walked them blindly towards the bed. Together they fell, Pam on top of Tara who immediately clung to her maker's newly horizontal body with all four limbs, her arms cinched tightly around the blonde's neck, her legs wrapped like tentacles across the backs of Pam's thighs.

Pam clutched at Tara like a limpet to a rock, her azure blue eyes aglow with grief and smoldering with pain. She cupped either side of her progeny's face, her actions neither gentle nor considerate. One finger sliced an accidental line of red across Tara's cheek and immediately dots of crimson decorated the scratch before it healed and disappeared. The blonde was unapologetic however as she forcibly yanked Tara's head down to hers, claiming her bruised, bloody and torn lips with her own abused ones.

Fangs clashed with each other, tearing open the corners of mouths, nicking the tips of tongues and ravaging the already weeping flesh of injured lips. Blood flowed like water into both vampires' mouths, drenching their taste buds with the thick iron-y tang and sliding down their throats like smooth whisky.

Hands roamed abundantly, over clothing, under clothing, across exposed skin and into thick mops of sable and golden hair. Nails pulled jagged lines across shoulders, collarbones and biceps whilst hips undulated and legs tangled.

On that bed, they moved together, their bodies in perfect sync with each other, despite the fifty-year absence. Mouths, hands, fingers and tongues danced to an age-old rhythm neither vampire had trouble following. Blood flowed freely, cascading in ruby streaks down faces of ebony and snow as nails scored deep grooves down arms, backs and thighs. Fangs sank into willing flesh, its pointed edges dipping into skins of ivory and chocolate like a knife into soft butter. Blood trickled from these wounds, soaking the sheets beneath maker and progeny, staining lips, anointing necks and bathing any patch of unblemished skin with crimson hues.

When the entwined vampires could no longer withhold the physical release demanded of them from their aching bodies, they crested in unison, their sharp cries laden with pain and sorrow. They fell into a vat of aching anguish, their hearts bruised beyond recognition, their souls caught on the fires of suffering. Noisy, needless breaths of air escaped from battered lips, the sounds tinged with guilt, regret and shame.

Bodies of ivory and ebony quaked like leaves in the wind, their bones rattled from distress, their muscles quivering with physical, mental and emotional exhaustion.

And whilst their bodies did eventually calm, the raging storm in their hearts and souls did not.

Tara curled into Pam who curled into her and they cried fitfully, staining their already blood-crusted bodies with fresh paints of deep, rich red. Sobs born from abject misery manifested in their throats and presented itself to their ears in soul-shattering cries that leeched even more blood from their eyes.

"I'm sorry," Tara sobbed, her entire frame shaking. She clutched harder at Pam, her nails digging half moons into Pam's shoulder blades and calling forth speckles of rubies from the broken skin. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" The words fast became a mantra, Tara's voice growing hoarser and hoarser until she was barely coherent, the ring of hysteria the only tone that was decipherable.

Pam said nothing, her voice box an empty cavern devoid of the ability to form words. She just grabbed at Tara's shaking arms, buried her tear-streaked face into a blood-splattered ebony hued neck and wept.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N** - Hey, guys. Your continued support for this crazy mess of a story is overwhelming, thank you. I promise no more angst-y sex; I don't think I can write another chapter like the last one anyway. Not without my head exploding. Anyways, here's chapter 8. Feel free to let me know what you thought. Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_Jessica hovered by the closed door, one hand suspended in front of her poised to knock. She hesitated, however, not quite knowing what she might find behind said door. _

_Two weeks had passed since Tara's disappearance and Pam's abrupt arrival and the latter had refused to leave, choosing instead to take refuge in Jessica's loft. The blonde couldn't even fathom the thought of returning to Louisiana, to the home she shared with the missing vampire. The very notion pained her, a physical ache that sent tendrils of agony across azure blue eyes that were already clouded with grief and haunted with guilt._

_No. Pam would not go home. Not without Tara. Every room in that house rattled with the ghost of her lover, every stick of furniture permeated with memories of their life together. What had once been a sanctuary was now a solitary prison, its walls etched with the echoes of what was._

_Instead, she stayed with Jessica and worried the younger the vampire to the brink of insanity with her tempestuous mood swings. Jessica was witness to three consecutive days of Pam weeping, the blonde overcome by bouts of heart wrenching sobs that threatened to splinter the already fragile walls of Jessica's heart. After that came rage, inconsolable, infectious rage that resulted in broken furniture, holes in the walls and screaming matches between the two vampires that were so loud that neighbors complained and cops were called. _

_And when the more hysterical and violent of emotions ebbed, Pam slipped into what Jessica thought was a state of shock or denial. The blonde for the better part of the second week was eerily calm, her face almost serene save for her eyes, which were cerulean whirlpools of sorrow. She was cordial towards Jessica, so unnervingly polite during their brief interactions that the redhead always had to blink to reassure herself that the vampire in front of her was really Pam. _

_Jessica's raised fist inched closer to the door and she sucked in a needless breath as her knuckles rapped three soft knocks against the solid oak. _

_No response._

_The redhead sighed and reached for the door handle anyway, turning it smartly. The door opened revealing Pam sequestered by the side of the bed, her hands cradling a picture frame that Jessica knew housed Tara's picture. There was the slightest of smiles tugging at the corner of Pam's full lips and watery as it was, a smile was a smile. It brought back a hint of that spark that was usually so evident in the blonde's cobalt eyes and the sight of Pam looking something other than the picture of misery stirred Jessica's heart._

"_Hey," the redhead greeted even as she hesitated by the threshold. "Can I come in?"_

_A fond smile skittered across Pam's lips as blue eyes caught sight of the younger vampire. "Of course." The blonde's voice was devoid of its dry Southern drawl, accented instead, with a softer, more lyrical inflection and Jessica just knew that Pam was lost in a memory. A happier memory._

_The redhead made her way over to the blonde and took a seat next to her so that their shoulders touched. Pam didn't begrudge the closeness and even reached up with a hand to brush tendrils of ginger hair away from Jessica's cheek before caressing the magnolia-white skin._

_Jessica sighed and leaned into Pam's touch, the blonde's rare moments of motherly affection towards the younger vampire always a priceless treasure that Jessica never failed to cherish. Cornflower blue eyes tracked over to the photograph Pam held dearly in her right hand and she immediately recognized the frozen memory._

"_Her hundredth," Jessica breathed out. A small grin drew a happy curve across her face as the memory of that night washed over her. They had had a family reunion of sorts, drinking, partying and catching up until the pull of dawn forced them to go to ground._

_Pam made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat but nodded. She withdrew her hand from Jessica's cheek and returned it to the picture. Pale, slender fingers traced the features of Tara's face, the pads of each digit already well familiar with the path. They shook slightly as they reached the fullness of Tara's bottom lip but then bravely traced the curvature of it before moving down to line the side of Tara's jaw._

_Jessica noted the slight tremor and dropped a gentle hand on Pam's shoulder, taking no offence to the way it stiffened under her touch. "The boys will be here soon," she announced, purposely steering the conversation out of choppy waters and Pam away from the rumbling storm of emotions that never ventured far from her heart. Even if only for a little while, Jessica was determined to find Pam a sliver of reprieve from the song of sorrow that crooned dark notes down her veins during her waking hours and serenaded darkness into her already troubled dreams during her sleeping ones._

"_So I'm finally going to meet the humans you've been speaking about so fanatically about these past few months?" Pam's voice was guarded, uneasy even and Jessica had to smile at the blonde's discomfort._

"_You'll love 'em," the redhead insisted. She was about to start a full-blown Jessica Hamby rant about the boys when the doorbell rang. _

"_That's them!" _

_Jessica all but sprang off the bed and Pam watched with an air of amusement as she vamp sped out of the room. The blonde's vampiric hearing picked out the faint murmur of pleasantries that extended into a lingering bout of small talk before the front door snicked close. Footsteps could be heard and they grew steadily louder as Jessica made her way back to Pam's room._

"_Say, 'hello', to Romulus and Remus!"_

_Pam cocked her head as her Prussian blue eyes took in the rather odd and slightly absurd sight of Jessica standing in the doorway holding two babies. One was in the crook of her left arm, drowsing and the other was propped up against her shoulder, chewing on the collar of her t-shirt and drooling down her neck._

"_Charming," Pam drawled as she observed the baby that was awake reach up to grab a fistful of Jessica's hair and pulling hard enough to elicit a wince from his sitter. _

"_They're just babies," Jessica defended. She turned and nuzzled at the active baby's cheek and the baby cooed and giggled in response. "Want to hold one? This one –" She pointed with her chin to the baby on her shoulder. "– is Romulus by the way."_

"_Absolutely not!" Pam replied, her eyes widening with trepidation as Jessica moved towards her with a determined glint in her eye. "Now, Jess, you just…" Pam's remaining words failed in her throat as Jessica gently but firmly tipped Romulus into the blonde's arms and Pam had no choice but to reach out to grab him._

_Pam's face was frozen in terror as she held the baby under his arms at arms' length. Romulus kicked out at the empty air and babble incoherently at the blonde._

"_Uh…hello." _

_The greeting came out structured more like a question and Jessica couldn't help the giggle that escaped her throat. She schooled her face back into a neutral mask when Pam scowled at her and cradled the snoozing Remus closer to her bosom. _

"_You can hold him closer to you," Jessica pointed out as she stroked at Remus' impossibly soft cheek with a lone finger. "He won't bite…I think."_

_Pam knew what Jessica was attempting to do and knowing that the redhead could be just as stubborn, decided to humor the younger vampire for the moment. She drew the baby against her shoulder, just as she had seen Jessica do then turned her head to observe the small human she held. _

_Romulus had tufts of chestnut hair that curled wildly around his head as if it didn't quite know which direction it wanted to take. Round cheeks were ruddy with warm blood that pulsated beneath creamy skin and the baby was in possession of a pair of wide open expressive eyes that seemed fashioned from the purest of emeralds. _

"_Hello, small one." Pam's voice was less uncertain this time and she ran a curious hand across Romulus' brow, marveling at his warmth and softness. She started a little when the baby emitted a series of shrieks, gurgles and babbles that sounded frankly bizarre to Pam's ultra-sensitive hearing. Her startled expression gave way to a look of unmitigated disgust when Romulus grabbed a handful of golden-blonde hair and promptly shoved it into his drooling mouth._

"_Okay, that's enough." Pam fished her lock of hair out of the baby's mouth, cringed when it emerged matted and damp with spit then held the baby back out for Jessica to take. "Please, take him."_

_Jessica shook her head in exasperation but allowed Pam to securely place Romulus in the safe cradle of the redhead's arm. Jessica opened her mouth to say something but was once again cut off by the sound of a ringing device. This time, however, it was Pam's cell._

_The blonde moved so fast that she was a virtual blur and Jessica's own heart leapt in her throat as she surveyed the desperate manner in which Pam reached for the trilling phone. _

"_Eric? _Fader_, have you…"_

"_I'm sorry, Pamela." Eric's slightly disembodied voice was heavy with apology even through the phone. "She left nothing for us to find. Not a paper trail and certainly not an electronic one." Eric paused to sigh and Pam could just picture him running agitated fingers through his blonde locks, which in truth he was. "_Mitt barn_, you taught her well. _Too_ well, I think." The blonde Viking's voice was equal parts proud and exasperated. "Tara's covered all her tracks and even my best can't find a trace of her anywhere in the system." Another pause and this time the only sound over the phone was the sound of increasingly heavier breathing from Pam. "Pam, I'm sorry. We can't find her."_

_Pam let her cell phone slip through her trembling fingers; it hit the desk with an audible thump but mercifully, it didn't break. From it, Eric's worried tone flitted out from the speaker but Pam was beyond caring. For two weeks, she had held out hope that Eric would deliver news, good news. Eric had never once failed to find his quarry and Pam had been reassured by her maker's innate ability to sniff out even the most elusive of targets. _

_But Tara, Tara had been taught by the best. She was of Godric's blood, which in turn meant she was of Eric's. If anyone could elude Eric, it was one of his own. And Tara had just managed to prove that._

_Pam sank back against the side of her bed, her legs unable to withstand the blow of Eric's devastating news. She didn't even realize that Jessica had blurred out of the room with the twins before returning at vamp speed, her arms now empty. The blonde didn't acknowledge the younger vampire squatting in front of her, didn't register the hand on her cheek._

_All she felt, all her heard were Eric's words, Eric saying that Tara couldn't be found. _Didn't_ want to be found. It was the straw the broke the camel's back. Like the cruelest of blades, Eric's news sliced through the last shreds of hope that Pam had been desperately clinging onto for the past few weeks. _

_And now, with nothing to hold onto, Pam's thin veneer of self-control all but vanished. Every emotion that she had managed to hold at bay crashed through the paper-thin walls around her heart and ravaged at the defenseless muscle. It struck at her heartstrings, causing it to wail a lament of agony then clawed at its vulnerable flesh until blood wept in torrents and her heart was an unbeating, lumpy mess of torn and shredded muscle._

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Pam awoke to the feeling of a warm, wet cloth upon her cheek but for now, she ignored this odd sensation in favor of distilling the pain and sorrow from the memory that still clung to her dreams. She noted that whilst it still hurt, the pain seemed much more bearable, the heavy weight of grief less taxing upon her shoulders.

The blonde opened her eyes; they were clear, devoid of the usual curtain of blood-tears that would always accompany a dream infused with memories past.

Then she realized that she wasn't alone. Pam turned her head and found Tara kneeling by the side of the bed, one hand guiding a soft washcloth down the side of her face, a look of apt concentration on her features.

"What are you doing?"

Tara started, not having realized that Pam was awake and cognizant of her surroundings. Of her. "Cleaning you up," she responded, her voice etched in guilt. She took away the blood-stained washcloth, dipped it into a bowl of water that was already tinged with swirls of watery red and pink then squeezed out the excess liquid. She returned the cloth to Pam's body, this time smoothing its damp surface down the side of the blonde's throat. Remorse and shame illuminated the dark of her eyes as she took note of the mottled array of purple, green and blue bruises that still littered the skin of Pam's neck, no doubt made by her fangs.

"Why?"

"You look like you've been through the wood chipper." The younger vampire couldn't look into her maker's eyes as she continued to clean Pam up. The ball of guilt inside of her grew more knotted and tangled in the pit of her stomach as obsidian eyes swept over the remnants of their…what was it they did last night? It wasn't lovemaking, it wasn't fucking. It couldn't even be called sex. Tara bit at her lower lip as she carefully bathed the long lines of scratch marks that drew parallel paths down Pam's forearm.

The dark-skinned vampire was startled when Pam drew her arm away. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Tara's voice was wildly apologetic and the guilt was so evident in her eyes that they seemed to glow with the emotion.

"Why are you still here?" Pam withdrew to the other side of the bed, taking the sheet with her. She stood and wrapped it around herself like a makeshift toga, uncaring that the once white sheet was now splattered with dry blood. The blonde took a moment to scrutinize the bed; it looked like someone had bled out on it. Splotches of scarlet were everywhere, painting the pillows in wobbly spheres, streaking the mattress with jagged lines of crimson and even dotting the walls with the odd splash of red.

Pam didn't cringe or flinch at the mess though. As memories of what they did last night crashed to the forefront of her mind, the echoes of emotions it brought with it didn't phase her. In fact, the entire experience seemed almost cathartic, as if what she did last night with Tara were a key that unlocked something inside of her. Something that was now free from its shackles, its arms unbound from its prison of rope.

For the first time in fifty years Pam felt as though the world had finally stopped spinning wildly out of control. It was slowing down, returning to its usual languid orbit around the sun, revolving at a pace that allowed the blonde to see the world with clearer eyes.

Those eyes now zeroed in on Tara, who stared back at her as if she were seeing a ghost. "Why are you still here?" Pam repeated, her voice deadly calm.

Tara's brow furrowed, as if she didn't know the answer. "Pamela…"

"No." Pam held out a hand and Tara immediately closed her mouth at the sight of her maker looking…well looking more like Pam and less like the broken shell her progeny had been witness to the past few nights. "No. I've had enough. We've paid our dues, said our goodbyes. Now it's time for you to leave."

"I'm not going to leave until you're back to full health," Tara replied, her voice firming with stubbornness.

Pam's face was frighteningly neutral as she regarded her progeny from across the bed. "If you're worried about Eric, I release you from his blood-oath on his behalf. You have my word that you won't be harmed."

The way Pam spoke to Tara sent chills down the younger vampire's spine. Pam hadn't spoken to her in that tone with that expression of boredom and barely concealed contempt since the beginning of their newfound bond, when Sookie had bargained with Pam for Tara's life. Now, it was as if they were back to the very start, where Tara was nothing more than an inconvenience to Pam, an unwanted burden that was unfortunately tied to the blonde for all eternity. Except now, they didn't even have that bond to hold them together. They were just two people, two vampires with a shared past that they had since put behind them.

"I'm _not_ leaving until you're back to full health," Tara repeated, her voice defiant. She stood and crossed her arms. "We may not be lovers anymore, but you're still my maker, bond or no bond. You're my responsibility as much as I am yours."

"Well you're not _my_ responsibility anymore," Pam drawled and the return of her acerbic and dry tone was such a welcomed relief that Tara couldn't stop the small smile that crept unbidden across her lips. It died quickly however, as the blonde's words registered with her.

"I released you and by doing so, I released myself from any and all duties as a maker." Pam's eyes were chips of blue fire as they bore unrelentingly into Tara's liquid brown ones. "You have no claim on me as I have no claim on you."

"I'm _not_ leaving," Tara gritted out through painfully clenched teeth. She knew what Pam was doing; the blonde was reverting back to what she knew best: coldness. Hiding behind fortified walls of ice and bite then reinforcing them with steel.

"Suit yourself." Without another word, Pam turned and sauntered into the bathroom, leaving Tara to stare after her.

As Tara watched her former lover disappear through the door and shut it with a decisive click, she had to question her own motives. _Why_ was she still here? Still lingering, still clinging to a life that they both admitted was long gone. Why was she so reluctant to leave when they had finally aired out every last sordid detail of their demise?

These questions went about unanswered as Pam reemerged from the bathroom. She seemed to pay no attention to Tara being in the room at all, as she made her way to the dresser for some clean clothes. Closing the top drawer, she retraced her steps and disappeared back into the bathroom, acting as if Tara were not standing merely a few feet away.

As the bathroom door snicked closed again, Tara stared blankly at it, her mind awhirl with questions she couldn't answer. All she knew was that now that she was free to leave, free to start anew, to try for a fresh beginning, her feet couldn't find the strength to walk her to the door.

**TBC **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N** – Thanks to everyone who took the time to leave a review. Your support is always appreciated. Here's chapter 9 for y'all; it's a little dark and a little bloody, FYI. Let me know what you thought, if you have a spare moment. Happy reading.

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**Chapter 9**

Tara was propped up against the wall by the window, a half smoked cigarette dangling carelessly between her fingers. The window was open, the slit between the windowpane and frame wide enough to allow in a cool, crisp whisper of air that carried with it, the lingering strands of frost and ice.

One week. It had taken one, full solitary week for Tara to realize the nature of the game Pam had taken to playing with her. The dark-skinned vampire had been so entangled in her guilt, so ensnared by the arms of remorse that she had failed to notice one very fundamental shift in Pam's conduct towards her:

The blonde was ignoring her.

No.

The blonde acted as though Tara didn't _exist_.

Small as Pam's shabby apartment was, the older vampire was proving an expert in pretending that she was all by her lonesome. In fact, she had it down to a fine art; she would skate past Tara without so much as a backward glance, glide off the bed as though there weren't another body lying just inches next to her. She said not one word to Tara, acted as if the dark-skinned vampire were an invisible entity that was unworthy of notice, unfit of her attention. And if Tara had the great misfortune of crossing her path and getting into Pam's direct line of sight, azure blue eyes would simply stare right through her.

Tara took a long drag out of her glowing cigarette, allowing the tobacco flavored smoke to linger in her lungs before she blew them back out through full lips in slow rings of perfect circles. Eyes darker than pitch were fastened on their quarry, watching with a hawk-like intensity as Pam puttered around the kitchenette. The blonde seemed not to notice her progeny's scrutiny as she fished a bag of blood out of the minibar and tossed into the microwave. Whilst she waited for the blood to warm, the pale-skinned vampire pulled out the retractable table and tucked the foldable chair by its lip.

The microwave pinged. Tara observed, silent as a shadow, as Pam took her dinner out and sat down. The younger vampire watched with an air of satisfaction as her maker tore into the blood bag with relish, blue eyes closing in pleasure as the warm metallic liquid washed over her tongue and coated the walls of her throat.

Pam was feeding regularly again. It was a small victory, one that didn't work its magic fast enough on the blonde's still too frail body, but it was a victory nevertheless. However, the excursion that took place to procure the blood bags that now filled the shelves of Pam's minibar still cast a black cloud over Tara. The younger vampire was helpless against the menacing growl that escaped unbidden from the confines of her voice box as she recalled that one night when her ruthless actions had caused Pam to break character, to look, actually _look_ at Tara instead of through her.

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_The sky was a star-studded rooftop, its backdrop a dusky hue of midnight blue, mottled only by the rain-plump bodies of ultramarine clouds that drifted almost lazily across the sky. The night promised rain, as it normally did, but for now it seemed content to simply blanket the ruins of London with breaths of crisp, frigid air and the barest hints of silver-white fog. It curled around debilitated and broken buildings like near-transparent scarves that played peek-a-boo as it struggled against the odd puffs of cold air that would cut mercilessly through its wisp-thin bodies. _

_Tara paid the playfulness of the weather no mind, too busy training eyes of obsidian on her maker; Pam was currently strolling down a dimly lit street of uneven cobblestone, her steps sure and confident, which told Tara that the blonde was making her way to a familiar destination._

_That didn't mean Tara was happy with this new development. She thought Pam too weak and vulnerable to leave the safety of her apartment but when her protests had been met with silence and her stern reasoning had fallen on deaf ears, the younger vampire had no choice but to follow Pam out the door. _

_Now she walked a respectable distance behind Pam, not far enough to let her maker out of her keen sight but not close enough to suffocate the blonde with her aloof presence. _

_Three days. It had been three days since the blonde had spoken to her, acknowledged her. Tara didn't begrudge Pam's sudden cold shoulder towards her. In fact, she welcomed it, needing it to try to corral her all too chaotic musings into a single, cohesive and coherent train of thought. So far, she had failed. Repeatedly. She still couldn't make herself understand what it was that kept her here. The excuse that she simply wanted to see Pam back to full strength had long become overused and threadbare. But still, try as she might, she couldn't conjure up another reasonable explanation for her lingering, not without delving into a deep, dark part of herself that she was currently unable and unwilling to go._

_A slab of fog snaked out in front of her, momentarily obscuring her vision and blocking Pam from her. Tara cursed and waved an impatient hand in front of her, dispersing the band of silver-white from her face just in time to see her maker disappear around the corner. _

"_Fuck," she hissed, body already tensing as her eyes failed to find its target. She vamp sped after Pam…and suddenly found herself in the narrow street that yawned pass that wretched alleyway where she had first found Pam all those days ago. _

"_Oh fuck, __**no**__!" _

_Tara vamp sped in front of Pam and held out a demanding hand. "Stop," she ordered, her entire voice a dark warning. Tara didn't want to venture further down this street, she didn't want to be anywhere __**near**__ this street. Not when a memory so cruel lay just a few shy feet away._

_Pam seemed to have gone deaf as she gracefully sidestepped around Tara and continued down the poorly lit street, her gait suggesting to the younger vampire that she had not a care in the world. _

"_Fuckin' __**bitch**__!" Tara hissed, vamp speeding in front of Pam again. "Pamela, for __**fuck's**__ sake, take another path."_

_Pam didn't acknowledge her as she walked around Tara, though the set of her shoulders were now visibly tense. Behind her, Tara let loose a stream of expletives that stained the air blue before she vamp sped back up to her infuriating charge. This time, the dark-skinned vampire almost plastered herself to Pam's side, unwilling to compromise the blonde's safety for sake of keeping their bodies from touching._

_As they neared the alleyway, Tara's entire lithe frame grew so taut that her muscles ached and her bones creaked and protested against the tight coils of muscles that threatened to splinter her skeletal frame. The dark-skinned vampire imitated a mini thundercloud as growls fell in quick succession from her lips, the sound deadly and pointedly a warning to stay away. Eyes of jet were twin black storms of rage and apprehension as they surveyed every darkened corner, studied every shadowy spot._

_By the time they passed the alleyway and the narrow street spit the pair out into what looked like a main square, Tara was a rigid block of tensed muscle, her back ramrod straight and her hands twin fists at her sides. Her face must have reflected something terrifying and primal for the smatterings of people that passed them by immediately jumped back and gave maker and progeny a wide berth, their faces frozen in palpable terror, their pores reeking of panic and dread. _

_They made it to the blood mart without incident. When Tara had finally lowered her defenses and her hackles, she once again put a respectable distance between her and Pam. She stood sentinel by the shop's front as Pam made her way inside to purchase her blood then followed the blonde without so much as a word as Pam began the short journey home. _

_They were five measly minutes from the blonde's apartment when they were accosted by a group of V addicts, all five of them laden with some type of silver weapon._

_Tara didn't even stop to think, didn't stop to comprehend that the five addicts who stood before Pam and her were no more than teenagers barely yet able to shave. All that ran through the dark-skinned vampire's mind was that they were a threat. _

_A threat to Pam._

_That was enough incentive for the roll of blood lust and the call of primal protectiveness to course through Tara's veins like a siren song and the younger vampire was nothing more than a dark, deadly blur as she vamp sped forward._

_She reached what she assumed was the gang's leader and tore his head clean off of his shoulders before he could even think to lift the heavy silver chain that he held almost desperately in his hands. His decapitated body had not even hit the ground before Tara pounced on the next boy, a husky if stout skinhead with a wicked looking silver scimitar. _

_The boy shrieked and slashed out blindly with his blade, his fear-induced audacity managing to draw a line of red across Tara's cheek. That was all the mark he managed on Tara's otherwise flawless ebony skin before the enraged vampire descended on him, fangs distended. She grabbed him by the throat and squeezed until the bones beneath her fingers crumbled under skin that had already turned a nauseating shade of green and blue. Then she grabbed either side of the boy's head and twisted it so violently sideways that the top column of his spine spat itself out from the back of his neck, the skin around it puckered and peeled back like a blossoming flower. _

_His mangled body dropped with a dull thud on the concrete floor, oozing crimson down the street and into a nearby storm drain. _

_Tara paid him no mind as she turned and snarled at the three remaining V addicts, all of whom had stark terror painted on their faces. But underneath the terror was a bone-deep desperation, desperation to satiate a habit that gnawed at their frayed veins and gave them the courage of stupidity. A tall, gangly redhead stepped forward, albeit on shaky legs. He held a silver-tipped stake and actually bit out a derogatory remark about Tara's ethnicity before the vampire was on him like a nightmare given corporeal form and flesh, tearing his throat out with her fangs and leaving a gaping hole at the side of his neck. It vomited dark blood, torrents of the life-giving liquid retching out from damaged and torn flesh to stain his already filthy shirt and the boy fell to his knees, gargling and gasping for pulls of air._

_Tara kicked out at his chest, almost purring with satisfaction as his ribs concaved under her boot. He fell sideways, his stake skittering out of his now lifeless hand. _

"_BITCH!"_

_The insult came from a muscular boy, who moved as if he were actually trained in the art of fighting. Tara laughed a dark laugh that was imbued with mockery and colored with the promise of pain but she made a "come hither" motion with a careless flick of her hand. The boy came at her with a roundhouse kick, which she almost lazily dodged. She stepped back without retaliating, amusement in the dark of her eyes. _

"_Is that all you got?" Her voice was an exercise in ridicule, designed to goad the boy, enrage him._

_And it worked. He came at her with a wild yell, his friend following suit. Tara sidestepped the fist that was aimed for her face, grabbed it by the wrist and twisted. The sound of bones snapping filled the air and it was quickly followed by the excruciating howl of pain that would have sent the hairs on the backs of humans' necks to rise. Instead, Tara merely chortled, a laugh that was anything but delighted. It was a laugh filled with malicious intent as she used the boy's destroyed wrist as leverage to pull the him closer to her. _

"_Watch this," she whispered silkily as she looked hard into his eyes, her own lingering with the presence of death. She wrenched the boy's arm backwards then outwards; the sound of his shoulder dislocating and muscles shredding under his pasty white skin elicited a scream of such pure agony that the boy behind the one Tara held hostage, stopped dead in his tracks, the air around him busy with the stink of fear._

_Tara paid the frozen boy no mind as she continued to toy with the one she had as a cat would with a mouse. Tears streamed down the boy's face as she clapped a heavy hand on his injured shoulder and squeezed apathetically. He managed to choke out a scream pitched almost too high for human hearing before Tara slammed the side of her hand to his throat, effectively breaking his barely formed Adam's apple. The boy's face was an agonized mask of pain, shock and horror as his voice failed to convey his disbelief and pain out loud. The mask quickly gave way to blank, smooth canvas as Tara punched a hole through his chest and emerged with his still beating heart._

_She watched with absolutely no emotion as the boy's crystal blue eyes turned glassy and the last flicker of life snuffed itself out. His body dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, the cavity in his chest leaking scarlet. _

_Tara dropped the still warm heart on top of the motionless body; it bounced twice before falling to land by the side of his face. _

_Behind her, the last remaining boy let loose a petrified scream before he scampered away from the horrific scene where his former friends lay dead and bleeding in a macabre pattern on the street. He didn't run long and Tara could have let him go but rage and the potent need to exact violence was dangerous beast that held the reins of Tara's self-control. With a demanding flick of its wrist, the beast jerked at Tara's chains and Tara vamp sped up to the boy, lifted him up in the air with both hands then brought him, back first, onto her raised knee. His spine snapped in two, the sound sickening in the otherwise cold, silent air. _

_He didn't move. _

_Tara dropped him where she stood, uncaring that his head hit the concrete with an unpleasant thump, his body twisted in a manner that was decidedly unnatural._

_The dark-skinned vampire took no notice of the carnage she had invoked as she made her way back to Pam, her body loose and languid, the expression on her face satisfied and even blissful. The front of her shirt was a macabre pattern of scarlet splotches, her hands encased in crimson. She lifted a finger absentmindedly to her mouth, licked at the blood she found on the tip of her finger. She stopped short when a pair of blue eyes blazed into her own orbs of pitch. Pam was looking at her, actually __**looking**__. The notion was profound and Tara was rooted to the spot as her maker's cerulean blue eyes held her paralyzed where she stood._

_What came next would haunt Tara for the rest of eternity._

_Pam stared hard at her, her eyes twin flames of steel-blue tinged fires. Within it were the tinders of guilt, guilt that stemmed from knowing that she had a part in making Tara into who she was now. A killer. A cold, calculating killer that had no qualms of getting blood on her hands, of killing with malicious glee. There was also remorse, logs of remorse that fueled that the fire that burned in Pam's eyes but it was the vapors of pity, the smoky curls of disappointment in the blonde's iridescent gaze that shot a silver bullet through Tara's unbeating heart. _

_Pam pitied her. _

_Fumes of shame and disgust unfurled its toxicity in her veins. They blew their noxious breaths into her muscles until they ached, clotted her arteries with its potency and spat venom to coat at nerves that were flayed and raw. Tara clenched her teeth against the onslaught and looked pointedly away. It sickened her that she had incited that look from her maker, her former lover and it made her so disgusted with herself that right at that very moment, she wished for the True Death. _

_But Pam was looking at her, acknowledging her._

_Tara forced herself to look back, to allow herself to burn under the intensity of cobalt eyes that hid nothing from her. She felt the pain of Pam's gaze as acutely as if actually tongues of fires were licking at her skin. _

_Then just as quickly, the blonde's gaze cooled. _

_Frost danced over the Prussian blue of Pam's eyes, an icy sheen that thawed out the electric blue flames that licked at the corners of those blue orbs. The blonde's eyes grew arctic, fading to a cool winter-blue that leeched away any lingering strands of emotion, any recognition that Tara was in front of her. The transformation done, Pam was back to looking right through Tara. _

_The notion hurt more than any sharpened silver blade against her skin, pained Tara more than a pointed stake to her heart. _

_Tara could handle Pam hating her. She could handle them not being lovers. She could handle Pam looking at her with unmitigated disgust. What she couldn't handle was her maker looking at her with disappointment, with __**pity**__. Another roll of self-hatred, of utter disgust thundered through her stomach and Tara fought the urge to throw up._

_In that moment, Pam had successfully, with only one look, to completely destroy what was left of Tara from the inside out._

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Tara was brought back to the present when the sound of the bathroom door snicking close registered with her ultra-sensitive hearing. She looked up; Pam had abandoned her perch by the retractable table, the blood bag empty in the trash can. Eyes fashioned from coal looked down at her cigarette; a long stick of ash had gathered at its end and Tara extended her hand to the open window to tap it off. Then she crushed the barely lit stump in the palm of her hand before flicking it out of the window.

The dark-skinned vampire turned just in time to see Pam emerge from the bathroom, clad in a dark purple terrycloth robe. As per usual, she ignored Tara as she sauntered over to the bed, picked up a book by the nightstand and settled down to read.

Tara sighed, raked a hand through her hair and took a moment to observe Pam's silhouette. This couldn't go on, this silence. It was draining, debilitating. Her maker's blatant ignorance of her presence hurt more than caustic words dripping with disdain ever could. Tara wanted noise, wanted screaming. She would have even settled for a physical confrontation, would have relished Pam's fists raining down on the vulnerable flesh of her body, welcomed her fangs piercing her skin. But silence? It was deafening, crippling.

Tara knew something had to give. And she had to be the one to give it.

Fishing into her back pocket for her pack of cigarettes, she tapped one out, slid the pack back in her pocket then rummaged in her front pocket for her lighter. She lit her cigarette, sucked in a mouthful of smoke then exhaled it through her nose.

Dark eyes were stormy with determination, black with trepidation and fringed with fear of the unknown as she painfully cracked open the seal to the dark corner of her mind that housed fifty years of memories. Fifty years of recollections that were soaked in blood and tears, bordered with pain, and filled with screams. Fifty years that saw Tara carve out a dizzying path of self-destruction that had numbed her soul of any remaining shred of humanity. Fifty years of trying to forget someone that was the very flesh of her heart, the threads that held her soul intact and the blood that washed down her veins, giving her life.

"Fifty years ago…"

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N –** Sorry for not updating for quite a while but as I mentioned in my most recent one shot, I really just wanted to enjoy the holidays. However, inspiration came a-knockin' when I was forced back into my hotel due to bad weather and I churned this chapter out. Hope you enjoy and as always, reviews and critiques are always welcome. Happy holidays and happy reading everyone!

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**Chapter 10**

_Blood. She glutted on it, gorged herself on the life giving liquid until her pores stank of its metallic scent and her eyes and ears bled out the excess._

_Sex. It was her go to tool of manipulation and she wielded it with expert ease. Victims fell far too willingly at her feet; men, women, vampire, human. She used them, fucked them to oblivion and took what all that they gave._

_Sensation. She drowned herself in it, subjected her mind, body and soul to the most base of desires. Blood and sex. Sex and blood. The two were synonymous, so intertwined that after a while, she couldn't have one without the other. _

_Pain. Pleasure. She offered both, gave both with startling clarity. She made her victims ride the fine line between pleasure and pain until it blurred beyond recognition. Their screams of pleasure was her new drug, the fear and pain that blended into their blood, ambrosia. _

_And yet, despite the countless, needless feedings, the endless one night stands, Tara had never felt more numb, more disconnected from the world. It was just another part of her that wouldn't, couldn't function without Pam._

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_Tara slammed her latest conquest up against the grimy brick wall. The girl's back hit the solid surface with enough force for an unpleasant thump to echo down the shadowy alleyway and for the air to leave her lungs in a most painful manner. The back of her head cracked against the flat of a brick and stars fandangoed momentarily in front of her eyes. She whimpered, whether in fear or anticipation, she didn't know. _

_Tara paid the girl's slight discomfort no mind. Her lips were already on the girl's neck, whispering wet, hurried kisses down the column of her pale throat. Her tongue flicked and licked over a pulse that was hammering a frantic beat against the confines of skin. _

_The girl swallowed when she heard the subtle click of distending fangs, shivered when Tara dragged those sharp incisors over her jugular. The girl's arms were limp by her side, her hands clenching sporadically in vain attempt not to touch the vampire that currently held her up against the wall._

_Tara had given her clear instructions on what she wanted. Touching the vampire was not one of them._

_A rough hand shoved itself underneath the girl's thin tank top, its fingers groping almost painfully at a small but perky breast. The girl moaned and thrust her chest outwards, seeking firmer contact. Tara retaliated by digging her nails into the plump skin, the heel of her palm enticing an already stiff nipple into a hard, pointed peak._

_Tara worried the vulnerable flesh of the girl's neck with her fangs, biting gently down but never quite penetrating the skin. She moved the hand she had under the girl's tank down a stomach that was quivering and heaving with fear, panic, anticipation, desires or a toxic combination of all. _

_The girl's breath hitched when Tara's hand reached the hem of her miniskirt and her thighs trembled in response. She fairly whimpered in abject need when Tara pressed her lips to her ear and whispered a question, the vampire's voice an exercise in seduction, its cadence husky and dripping sex._

"_What do you want?" Tara asked before she took the girl's lobe between her teeth. She bit at soft flesh, smiled a dark smile when a tremor ran rampant throughout the girl's frame. "What do you want?" the vampire whispered, her voice a promising all things dark and sinful._

_The girl sucked in a much needed breath when Tara's hand alighted on her inner thigh. A flash of embarrassment streaked through her veins when she realized her arousal had already painted her inner thighs but it soon gave way to the stinging bolt of desire when Tara trailed two lazy fingers upwards towards the apex of her legs._

"_Your…f-fingers," the girl managed to gasp when Tara cupped her soaking wet cunt through the lacy material of her underwear. Her knees threatened to buckled when Tara pressed the pad of her thumb against her painfully pulsating clit._

"_And my fangs?" Tara's voice was demanding now. She dragged said fangs along the line of the girl's jaw then moved back down to the side of her neck. "Do you want my fangs inside of you too?"_

"_Yes!" The girl was whimpering piteously now, her legs shaking so hard that if it weren't for Tara pressing her against the wall, she would have crumbled to the dirt streaked floor. "Please…" _

_Tara yanked the girl's underwear off her, her bold and rough actions drawing out a half-panicked, half-aroused moan. Letting the now useless garment fall to their feet, Tara wasted no time in thrusting two fingers knuckle deep inside of the girl. Her fangs followed suit, sinking deep into the side of the girl's neck. She was rewarded by a fresh gush of wetness drenching her trapped fingers and rich, desire-spiked blood starbursting onto her tongue._

_The girl mewled, her hips erratically springing back and forth as Tara drove punishing fingers in and out of her contracting cunt. Her throbbing clit was a fierce pleasure point, one Tara manipulated and used at whim. Her neck on the other hand was singing dark notes of pain, Tara not bothering to make her feeding gentle or considerate. _

_The girl was caught between the jaws of pain and the caress of pleasure. But as Tara eased in another finger and sped up the tempo of her thrusts while taking in long pulls of hot blood, the lines between pleasure and pain blurred until she couldn't tell which fanned the flames of her arousal more: the fangs ravaging the flesh of her neck or the expert fingers thrusting in and out of her very wet pussy._

_Tara pressed the heel of her palm against the girl's thrumming clit, her three buried fingers soaked with the girl's desire. She drove her fingers mercilessly in and out of the girl, her pace almost punishing. The girl's hips struggled to follow Tara's rhythm, her cunt clenching and unclenching in an almost desperate manner around Tara's trapped fingers. The stench of sex and blood saturated the air around the rutting couple, a potent , heady mist that made the girl's eyes roll to the back of her head. _

_When Tara felt the girl's impending orgasm, she pulled all the way out before slamming her fingers back in and curling them. The girl screamed as Tara bit down even harder on her neck, irritating twin puncture wounds that were weeping crimson. When she felt Tara's curled fingers touch that spot inside of her, colors exploded behind eyes that had become tightly screwed._

_The girl's orgasm sent shockwaves throughout her body, her screams of pleasure echoing down the otherwise uninhabited alleyway. Tara hummed as the girl's orgasm sweetened the blood that was pooling freely in her mouth. She stilled the fingers she had buried inside of the girl, allowing her to ride out her climax without further stimulation. Not that the girl needed it; her entire body was quaking violently, her hands twin fists and her legs the consistency of jello. Her face bore an interesting combination of a pleasure induced smile and furrowed brows that bespoke of intense concentration. _

_Tara kept the girl pressed against the wall even as she withdrew her fangs. Her face, though smeared red around her lips, remained frighteningly impassive, her eyes two dark, fathomless pools of emptiness. She watched as the girl struggled to control her trembling body, observed the way her lips were parted to suck in gulps of much needed air. When she was sure the girl could stand on her own, she moved away; the girl slumped against the wall, one hand braced against it for support._

"_Thanks for the blood," Tara said, her voice one decibel shy of monotone. She licked her lips, cleaning them of the remnants of blood. Like always, the blood she ingested sang to her taste buds but not to her heart. It was the same with fucking; she had fucked so many that their faces were nothing more than a blur but each encounter proved futile. Tara felt nothing, not joy in watching others climax, not smug, arrogant satisfaction._

"_Can I have your number?" The girl knew her request was a long shot but she felt compelled to ask anyway._

"_No." And with that Tara walked away, allowing the dark of the alley to cloak her lithe frame from sight._

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Tara paused to tap away the small stick of ash that accumulated at the end of her cigarette. Taking another drag, she exhaled slowly, watching her maker through cautionary eyes. Pam was situated on the bed, cobalt blue eyes trained studiously on the book she held in her hands. To the casual observer, it looked as though the blonde was immersed in her book, Tara's words unregistered.

However, Tara knew better. She knew Pam, had deep, intimate knowledge of her maker, not just as her former lover but as someone who lived with the blonde for decades. She could read every subtle expression on Pam's face, could write a book on the many ways Pam's body would express joy, anger, sadness, irritation.

And so, the dark-skinned vampire knew by the subtle way Pam angled her body towards Tara, the way her finger would hesitate and linger over the corner of a page before turning it, the way she held her head that Pam was listening.

Tara sucked on the end of her cigarette, blew out a series of smoke rings then resumed.

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_The air burned with heat, the wind sticky with humidity. The sky was black as pitch, devoid of stars or clouds. Tara skulked down the near empty street, her posture simultaneously inviting yet foreboding. Turning the corner, she was on her way back to her temporary residence when a drunken college boy stepped into her path. _

_The vampire's reaction was instinctive; an ebony arm shot out, limber fingers wrapping themselves around a slender throat like bands of steel. The drunken haze that clouded the boy's eyes were immediately replaced by a very sober fear. His eyes widened the size of dinner plates when Tara lifted him into the air, her face a snarling, hissing mask of pulled back lips and elongated fangs._

_The boy whimpered, his hands clawing at Tara's to no avail. His legs kicked out beneath him, one shoe managing to catch Tara at the knee but that only resulted in Tara tightened her grip even more. _

'Do it,' _a voice inside of her head crooned, its tone oily and saccharine. _'It would be so easy-,'_ the voice continued, temptation dripping from every syllable. _'-to break his neck. Feel his bones crumble beneath your fingers. Do it.'

"_Oh, what the hell," was what Tara said out loud. She gave the boy's throat a fatal squeeze; the skin beneath her fingers quickly mottled into blotches of purple, blue and green before the sound of cracking bones filled the air. The boy screamed, it was short-lived, high-pitched and tapered into a garbled choke before the boy fell silent as Tara literally squeezed the life out of him._

_Adrenaline. Excitement. A sliver of arousal._

_Things Tara thought she would never feel again. She stared at the now lifeless body; the boy's head hung limp, his chin brushing Tara's knuckles. He had no pulse, the blood in his veins already stinking up Tara's nostrils. She dropped him, watched as his legs hit the pavement at an unnatural angle. Something popped, probably his knee. Tara didn't care. All she cared was that when she had killed the boy, intentionally took his life, she felt alive again. _

_The events that followed this incident would result in stripping Tara of any last shred of humanity she had left._

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"Stop."

Tara was so startled by the sound of Pam's voice that she dropped her cigarette.

"Fuck!" The younger vampire stamped at the glowing end before she bent and picked up the now useless bud. Flicking it out the window, she quickly returned her attention to Pam, shock traipsing across her face before Tara squashed the expression with a look of impassivity.

Pam was looking at her, not _through_ her but _at_ her. Sapphire blue eyes iridescent with pain, the features on her face contorted with barely contained horror and disbelief. "Please," she rasped out, her hands suddenly shaking so badly that she had to set the book she held onto her lap. "Just…stop."

Tara's eyes were almost unreadable save for a flicker of need as they locked onto agony painted Prussian blue. "I need you to understand," Tara began. She leaned back against the wall, one hand sliding carelessly into her pocket. "Why I am the way I am," she continued, her voice breaking slightly. "Why the way I am now," she clarified, her tone firming.

Pam swallowed. Hard. There was suddenly so much pleading in Tara's eyes that it caused the blonde's heart clenched painfully in her chest and her eyes to sting. She shook her head, the act sending strands of golden blonde hair to dance about her face. "No." She didn't want to hear anymore, didn't want to subject Tara and herself to the tale of Tara's self-destruction.

Tara refused to tear her gaze away from Pam's, determination, relief and a dangerous spark of joy raging inside of her. Relief and joy because her maker was finally acknowledging her presence. Determination because she _needed_ to make Pam understand her side of things. "Yes," Tara countered. Eyes the color of midnight burned into coals of sapphire. "Yes."

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N** – There's something about being back in your old room in your parents' house that brings out the creativity. Maybe it's all the residue teenage angst that seeped into the walls. *shrugs* Lol. Anyway, here's the next chapter for y'all. Feel free to leave me a review if you've got half a sec.

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**Chapter 11**

Pam paced the length of her apartment, agitation screaming from every step. Every now and then she would pause to toss her progeny a sidelong glance. Eyes the color of a clear mountain sky somehow managed to simultaneously convey a blistering glare and a soft look every time Pam trained their gaze onto her reticent child.

Tara was leaning against the wall by the window, her location of choice it seemed. A bottle of O-neg _Bloodsky_ sat on the windowsill, half drained. In the dark skinned vampire's hand was a blood-stained shot glass, its sides smeared with the dark liquid. The vampire reached down for the bottle, poured herself another shot then downed it with expert ease.

Pam sent the bottle a deep scowl; when breathers had first manufactured a vampire's equivalent of 80-proof whisky and put it on the market, Tara had been ecstatic. Her election quickly fell by the wayside however, when her maker had explicitly forbid her from drinking what she deemed was "swill." It had resulted in one of their worst fights, with both sides throwing barbs so vicious that had they manifested into physical weapons, both maker and progeny would have been shredded to pieces.

And now, watching Tara down shot after shot without so much as blinking, one of Pam's well concealed fears was transpiring before her very eyes: her progeny, like her human mother before her, was turning to the bottle to find that caress of functionality, that boost of comfort. Pam's jaw cinched tightly as Tara poured herself another shot and tossed it back almost carelessly but refrained from voicing her thoughts aloud.

Two days had passed since Tara had begun unveiling fifty years of memories that were painfully absent of Pam. Tales of debauchery, blood, sex and death, accounts that seemed to become more sordid, more dark and more desperate than the last.

Pam knew that she could leave, could simply walk out mid-story, save her ears, her heart, her soul from the sharp talons of Tara's words. But try as she might, she couldn't find it in herself to leave. There was a morbid, masochistic part of her that held her captive in that apartment with Tara, confined her to stalking up and down the length of her apartment like a caged animal.

The blonde shot another look at her progeny when she heard the clink of the bottle against the windowsill; Tara simply returned her gaze with an unreadable one, her dark eyes devoid of emotion, of life. It was akin to staring into twin black holes, where nothing but blackness and darkness lay. It frightened Pam that she could read not one iota of emotion from her child's eyes; Tara's eyes were always the window to her soul, her thoughts. Whilst her face may have remained expressionless and impassive, her eyes always gave her away.

Now, Pam could glean nothing from that dark, flat, empty gaze. All she saw was blackness and beyond that, a vast vacuum of nothing. Quite against her will, the blonde allowed a shiver to overcome her; it was intense enough to cause her shoulders to shake and for her steps to falter. She stopped, turned to face Tara and simply stared at the vampire across the room as she waited for the tremors to stop wracking havoc through her body.

Tara remained silent even as she witnessed Pam's inner turmoil manifest into a physical reaction. She was unaffected by cobalt blues eyes that bore into her midnight ones, refused to provide the answer to the question that lay half hidden in those spheres of arctic blue.

Pam watched as Tara remained eerily closed off, the features on her face chillingly still and impassive. Her entire body seemed lifeless and inanimate, save for the arm that worked the hand that poured the shot. It seemed that whilst Pam had retreated deep inside of herself, Tara had lashed out. At herself, at the world, at everyone. Because she had nothing left to retreat inside to; like scooping out the insides of a pumpkin, Pam had ripped everything out of Tara. Her heart, her soul, the very essence that made Tara, Tara.

And now, the blonde's handiwork complete, Tara was…empty.

Pam's left hand formed a strangled fist, fingers clenched so tightly that the skin stretched over her knuckles glowed a pure white. The metallic stench of blood peppered the air ever so slightly as the blonde's nails dug into the palm of her hand, slicing opening half-moon shaped wounds.

The wounds deepened, the air above and around Pam rapidly clogging up with the smell of blood as the blonde recalled Tara's latest narrative.

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_Tara had always wanted to travel. It was just unfortunate that her aimless wanderings across the globe were a result of her maker releasing her._

_It was Christmas Eve and Tara, feeling sentimental, if only in retrospect, found herself in Stockholm, Sweden. The homeland of her grand-maker and subsequently a city Pam had come to call her own. The dark-skinned vampire had previously been in South East Asia and as she slowly made her way across the Asian continent into Europe, she left what had now become her signature footprints: a trail of blood and screams. _

_She was currently imprinting her mark on the idyllic town of Stockholm; staining the picturesque scenery of wintery white and twinkling Christmas lights with splotches of scarlet and tainting the air with pained whimpers and petrified gasps. _

_The dark-skinned vampire had a lone jogger pinned to a gnarled tree, an ebony arm pressed painfully tight against the front of his throat. The jogger's Adam's apple bobbed, or at least it tried to against Tara's unrelenting hold._

"_P-please," the jogger choked out in Swedish, stifling a shriek as Tara dragged the nail of her thumb down the plane of his cheek; a line of crimson was left in its wake, oozing dots of blood. "L-let me go."_

"_Why?" the vampire returned in fluent Swedish. Tara's voice was bored, the expression on her face never shifting as she backhanded the jogger across the face, splitting open his lip. The cut wept red, trickled down his chin and fell in glorious ruby droplets onto the otherwise pristine white snow._

"_I have k-kids," the jogger pleaded, flinching violently as Tara grabbed one of his fingers and curled her own around it. _

"_Ask me if I care." Tara snapped the finger backwards; it popped out of its joint, bones splintering in two. A burst of adrenaline shot through her veins, momentarily warming Tara from the inside out. But the feeling was fleeting and when it ended, the vampire found herself disappointed and empty all over again._

_The man whimpered, a film of panic and fear clouding the green of his eyes. His damaged finger throbbed, the broken bones and torn muscles all but crooning out the universal song of pain all iving bodies were intimately familiar with. Said eyes widened when Tara cocked back a fist, took a moment to lock her dead, empty eyes onto his petrified ones before she thrust it into his solar plexus. _

_The jogger grunted, his screams lost in the breath of air he was unable to take as his body seized up in agony. He doubled over as much as his current position would allow, tasted something coppery at the back of his throat. Instinct had him coughing it out; blood spurted from his mouth, splashes of it anointing the side of Tara's face and the rest staining the snow at their feet._

_There it was again. That caress of thrill against her loins, that brush of adrenaline against her nerves. Tara smiled; it sat wrongly on a face that was otherwise expressionless, a face that housed eyes that were darker than oil. Through the miasma of pain curtaining his temporarily blurry vision, he made the mistake of looking at that smile; he'd never seen a smile quite so menacing, so devoid of happiness and cheer. It sent a lick of fear down his spine and a tremor to shake his toned frame. Death was imminent, the smile was his death warrant in physical form._

_Tara felt the man shiver, knew that it was the look on her face that caused it. She removed the arm that she held against the man's throat, watched dispassionately as the man crumbled to the ground, his body folding in on itself to protect him from Tara's particular brand of torture. _

_Not that it worked; Tara reached down, grabbed a fistful of thick blonde hair and yanked the man back onto his feet. One ebony arm whipped out, its elbow connecting with the jogger's chest. He howled in abject agony as something cracked beneath his flesh, screamed when that cracked something pierced what was probably his lung. He choked, his hands clamping over the injured spot to no avail. Blood retched from his mouth, bursting forth through the open seams of his lips as his body rejected blood that flowed into the wrong parts of his body._

_A sweet starburst of pleasure. It coated Tara's veins, soothed her troubled mind, if only for a moment. Then it was gone again, a brief reprieve that dissipated just as quickly as it appeared. It was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands._

_Tara released the grip she had on the jogger's hair then kicked his feet out from under him with a well-executed flick of her boot. Her face was still as a marble statue and just as unresponsive as eyes of pitch followed the jogger's body's descent onto the snow. His impact kicked up tufts of the snowy white material, his body sinking slightly into the white mush. The minute his body stilled, he curled into a fetal position, his mouth still vomiting streams of dark blood. Already the color of his cheeks were graying, his pallor mirroring that of a slowly but surely dying individual._

_The air around Tara was busy with the metallic stench of blood but the smell and sight of the life-giving liquid didn't tempt the vampire's thirst anymore, as evident by fangs that were still encased in their respective sheaths. It was the thrill of the hunt that she craved, the rush of adrenaline, of arousal when she held her victim against their will, felt their bones shatter beneath her touch, their screams of undiluted pain caressing her ears. _

_Tara wanted that hit of being alive again._

_So she he stamped hard on the man's exposed arm resulting in a high-pitched shriek that would have made dogs whine in discomfort. Beneath her boot, she felt the bones in said arm break, gave herself a mental pat on the back when she bore witness to one sliver of bone jutting through the flesh, the skin around it peeling backwards like an opening flower. She knelt down next to the helplessly whimpering jogger, now too drugged with pain and fear to do little more than to flinch away from Tara's crouched form and curl into a tighter ball when he couldn't move any further._

_Tara touched the jagged edge of the protruding bone with an almost child-like curiosity. She experimented with pressure, observed how a light touch would produce a pained gasp from the jogger and how an almost playful flick against the side of the bone would provoke a strangled cry._

_Blood trickled from the broken arm in curving streams of crimson, wetting and redding the snow. Tara dragged a lone finger through the mixture of red and white, turning the snow into a pale rosy pink. When the jogger attempted a valiant move to scramble away from the vampire, she simply reached out with a casual hand, wrapped supple fingers around the jutting bone and used it to pull him back to her._

_The jogger howled and thrashed, the pain in his arm excruciating. The side of his body that lay against the snow was damp and numb with cold but his arm burned with the fires of agony, multiple teethes of pain gnawing on nerves that were well beyond frayed. He didn't try to move again, knowing that the vampire, his torturer, would only aggravate his heavily abused arm._

_Tara sensed it the second the jogger let all the fight go out of him, saw it in the way his shoulders slumped, his curled body relaxing ever so slightly against his bed of snow. His forest green eyes bore the look of resignation even as the edges were fringed with pain and his mouth was set in a grim line._

"_You're of no use to me if you're just going to lie there, waiting to die," Tara spoke softly, her voice almost admonishing as she looked down at the jogger. When he didn't response with an insult or another attempt to flee, the vampire sighed in dramatic disappointment. "Have it your way." With vampiric speed, she flipped the man onto his back, clamped a hand over his nose and mouth and watched impassively as his body flailed and his working hand reached up instinctively to try to pry Tara's unyielding hand away from his face. He made a choking noise, from the lack of oxygen or the blood that was now congesting his airway, Tara didn't know or care. All she wanted was to feel that temporary shot of elation as she took the life of yet another person._

_The jogger's movements were sluggish now, limbs slowing their actions in the snow. When his hand fell away from Tara's and his eyes turned glassy, Tara spared only the briefest moment to listen for a pulse. The absence of that beat of life enticed her to remove her hand from the now motionless jogger's face; the man was dead, the blood in his veins already cooling and slowing to a halt. _

_Tara stood, brushing snow off her jeans. She glanced down at the dead jogger, felt nothing as she raked dark eyes down the lifeless body. Then without so much as a backward glance, or even a flicker of remorse or guilt in her eyes, she turned and made her way down the empty, windy path._

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"You're staring."

Tara's voice cut through Pam's turbulent ponderings. The blonde shook her head slightly, realized that when she had taken an impromptu journey into her head, her body had rebelled against her and froze itself to the spot that was in direct line of Tara.

"Where did you go?" It may have seemed impossible to sound uncaring yet concerned but that was the cadence of Tara's tone. The dark-skinned vampire stared unapologetically across the room at her maker, was impervious by the sapphire blue eyes that regarded her with what looked like thinly-veiled dismay.

"You're upset with me," Tara continued when Pam failed to respond. "Or disgusted." She caught a flash of protest pass across her maker's features. "No need to lie. I can see it in your eyes. I could always see everything in your eyes."

Pam's back went ramrod straight as she inhaled harshly, cerulean blue eyes icing up in response to Tara's remark. "You don't know me anymore," the blonde spat out, unable to keep her acerbic tone in check.

"Maybe not," Tara conceded quietly as she toyed with the empty shot glass in her hand. She ran her thumb along its rim. "But you have to admit that I've always managed to see right through you, even from the very beginning."

That much was true. Even in the earliest of days, when their fledging relationship of maker and progeny had barely began to register; Tara already had the uncanny ability to see past Pam's prickly demeanor and sardonic banter. She would often call Pam out on her bullshit, which would usually result in a punishment of some kind but it had unnerved the blonde to no end that her progeny could read her in a way that not even Eric could.

Tara saw something fracture behind Pam's crystal blue eyes and her fingers tightened subtly on the shot glass she rolled absentmindedly across her palm. Eyes cut from pure black onyx took in the sight of her maker's furrowed brows, the way her throat worked as Pam corralled her thoughts to be put into audible words. Tara's dark gaze followed an alabaster hand that reached up to card frustrated fingers through thick golden-blonde hair then tracked it diligently as it descended back down her body only to prop itself on a hip.

"Why are you doing this?" Pam finally spoke. Her look was steely with barely repressed agitation as she scrutinized Tara from across the room. "Why hash up every fucked up thing you thing you did? What is the fuckin' point of your twisted version of bedtime stories?"

Pam had loved until her heart broke, mourned the loss of that love until the light went out of her eyes, her heart shriveled in her chest and her soul turned ashen. Now, all she wanted was to try to repair what was left of her heart and soul; there wasn't much to salvage but she was damned if she didn't try. She knew that she would never love another like she had loved Tara, knew that for a fact. And she accepted that; she had found that great love, that epic bond between two people that storytellers and poets waxed poetic about. Tara gave her that once in a lifetime love, bathed her in, let her taste it on a daily basis, blanketed her in for well over a hundred years. And for that, she would be forever grateful to her progeny.

But now, now it was time for goodbye. For them to let go of the past, of each other. But Pam couldn't do that, couldn't strive for a clean break if Tara kept lingering, kept digging up the past. Where her progeny was once the glue that kept her together, now she was the hammer that kept breaking her apart.

Tara turned a solemn gaze onto her maker. "I need you to understand," she intoned, her voice monosyllabic.

"Understand what?!" Pam cried out, her calm, icy façade shattering into smithereens onto the floor. "Understand that you turned into a monster? Understand that _I_ helped facilitate that change in you? What the _**fuck**_ is it you want me to understand?!"

"Killing. Eating. Fucking." Tara's tone was brusque, its inflection carrying just the slightest hint of savagery. "Wasn't that your particular brand of vampire philosophy?" Eyes darker than the deepest of nights blazed into stunned Prussian blue. "Wasn't that the kind of vampire you wanted me to be?" Tara set the shot glass down by the bottle and pulled herself up to her full height. "Isn't this–" she gestured at herself. "–what you wanted?"

As those words poured out of Tara's mouth, Pam could only stare at her progeny, her jaw slack and her mind reeling.

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N** – Apologies for the late update; I've been having writers block. Also, aroomofonesown mentioned something about an L-Chat? L Chat? She had to explain to me what that was; I thought it was some newfangled IM or something. Social media and I aren't pals. Anyway, she told me about some of y'all discussing my stories and such on the forum and so I just wanted to say hi and thanks. Thanks for supporting my work and talking so highly of it, I really appreciate it. And now, without further ado, here's the next chapter. Reviews are welcomed as always. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 12**

"_Isn't this what you wanted?"_

Pam stared across the room at Tara, her jaw slack. Her entire body was frozen, Tara's words rooting her feet to the ground and paralyzing her muscles. She stood where she was and just…stared.

Tara returned Pam's stunned gaze, her own expression unapologetic. When Pam failed to respond or even blink, she repeated herself. "Well? Isn't it?"

This time Pam flinched. Her body reacted as though it had been struck, jerking back so suddenly that one pale arm shot out behind her to brace the flat of its palm against the wall. She sidled up against the wall, anchoring herself to its sturdy surface even as her mind reeled from Tara's accusations.

"_Isn't this what you wanted? Well? Isn't it?"_

Cruel words. Spoken like cold, hard facts. Made worse by the fact that Tara actually believed in what she was saying. Believed with absolute certainty.

Pam's palm pressed harder into the wall, resulting in a network of hairline fractures to starburst from beneath her fingertips. They crept outwards over the wall's surface, miniature cracks that added to the already dilapidated décor of the apartment. Her mind was abuzz with Tara's allegation, each syllable digging needle-like claws into the vulnerable recesses of her mind and echoing over and over until it was all she could hear.

Tara observed Pam from across the room, her obsidian gaze flat. She remained unaffected in wake of her maker's physical response to her accusation, simply choosing to watch the blonde with a detached expression. Tara took in the way Pam's face shifted under the conflict of emotions raging through her, monitored how her maker fought to keep the expression on her face impassive. Judging from her furrowed brow and pursed lips, Tara just knew that Pam was fighting hard against some vicious inner turmoil; it was most evident in her eyes: the way those azure blue shades scattered and broke in the confines of her pupils, how the splashes of iron gray hardened to the color of steel.

Those tempestuous eyes met Tara's now, a stormy mix of arctic blue and winter-gray locking onto fathomless pools of pitch. A dark smile played across Tara's lips; barely there and hardly noticeable for it was nothing more than an indiscernible curl at the corner of her lips but Pam caught it. The blonde set her jaw in a stubborn line in response, a stony mask of feigned indifference dropping over the features of her face. Her eyes went eerily calm, though beneath that serene curtain of Prussian blue, a storm raged, violent, potent and churning.

Tara took Pam's silent challenge in stride, meeting her maker's cool gaze with steadfast confidence. She didn't speak even as their eyes warred with each other, knew that Pam would eventually break the silent barrier between them.

"Is that what you think?" Pam's voice was slow and deliberately steady, each word rolling off her tongue with careful enunciation. She kept her eyes on Tara's; looking into those emotionless orbs was akin to staring into a black abyss and though every fiber of Pam's being screamed at her to look away, she locked her muscles and stood her ground.

"It's what I know." Cool, unrepentant words that were doused in cruel certainty.

Pam's throat worked furiously as she swallowed, Tara's response a bitter pill that soured the taste in her mouth. She stared across the room at her former lover, struggled to find even a hint of the Tara she knew and came up empty. Finally, not knowing what else to do, how else to react, she barked out a bitter, disbelieving laugh.

"You're fuckin' delusional." Caustic words decorated with barb wire that sped out of Pam's mouth to assault Tara's ears. The blonde's tone was biting, her cadence harsh with spite but the look in her eyes told a different story: they were awash in pain, frank disbelief and betrayal fracturing the blue of her already turbulent eyes. Pam started forward, her foot lifted in preparation to propel her body one step closer to Tara but then she stopped, thought better of it and resumed her post against the wall. Arms of ivory crossed over her chest, a shield against anymore vindictive allegations her child might throw at her.

Tara, for her part, frowned, her face folding in confusion and more than a little disappointment. She picked up the shot glass she had deposited by the windowsill and rolled it around in her palm. Her eyes became contemplative, pensive almost as she stared down at the empty glass.

Pam regarded Tara from her spot across the room. Watching the way her child's face scrunched in confusion sent a stab of pain through her heart; Tara really did believe that her maker wanted her to be the way she was now. It was disheartening. Blue eyes were suddenly agelessly sad as Tara shifted slightly, moving her weight from one foot to the other. These were characteristics of the old Tara, idiosyncrasies her body would reveal whenever the dark-skinned vampire was pondering something deep. For Pam, watching brief snatches of the old Tara come out was akin to watching a television set with bad reception, its channel flickering in and out of focus.

Then, just as quickly, the Tara she knew was gone. Again. Resignation was a heavy note in the sigh that drifted out of her mouth as Prussian blue eyes observed the way Tara's shoulders stiffened, her spine going ramrod straight and her face flattening back into its blank smoothness. Pam braced herself, knowing that what would come out of Tara's mouth next would no doubt be dressed with razors.

"So, you were lying to me that whole time?" Twin chips of onyx were ablaze with black fire as they bore into endless pools of sapphire. "Were you just saying those things to fuck with my head?" Tara's tone rose, the anger in it building up to an explosive crescendo. She squeezed at the shot glass in her hand; cracks appeared across the glass under the pressure of her fingers but didn't quite break.

Pam bit down on her lower lip, her shoulders sagging further against the wall. She was tired, so tired of going round and round in circles with Tara. She forced herself to look into her child's empty eyes. "I was a different person back then. _You_ changed me." Winter-blue eyes were steady as they locked onto chips of obsidian. "You changed me, Tara. You took away everything that was empty inside and filled it up." Pam lifted a hand and dropped it onto her chest, directly over where the bond would be humming lowly had it still been there. Again, the absence of the hum of the bond sent a sliver of anguish to shoot through her veins but she worked through it, her fingers tracing nonsensical patterns over the material of her t-shirt. "That hasn't been my philosophy for the longest time."

"So what is your _philosophy_ then?" Tara's voice was a study in sarcasm, venom oozing from her lips. "Peace? Love? Puppy dogs and unicorns?"

"You."

The shot glass crunched under the sudden pressure of Tara's squeezing fingers; glass exploded in her palm, raining down onto the floor in gentle _pings_ whilst others bit savagely into the vulnerable flesh of her hand. The metallic stench of blood saturated the air, made Pam's gums ache as her fangs threatened to pop. She held them back and looked over at Tara, who now bore a stupefied expression.

"Do you really think so little of me?" Pam's voice was ringing with exhaustion, her posture screaming surrender. Her eyes glistened with a timeless kind of pain and sadness that could only come from unbearable loss. "Did I not love you enough?" The thought pained her, hurt her heart with such acute purpose that she was almost convinced that it made physical lacerations across her chest. The blonde swallowed around the lump in her throat, blinked away tears that stung the corners of her eyes. "Do you really hate me that much?"

"You're supposed to hate _**ME**_!" A wretched sob, one that seemed to have been confined to the walls of Tara's throat for the last fifty years, finally broke free of its restraints. It broke out from between the seam of Tara's lips, bursting forth like a train gone off its tracks. Tara slid down the wall, her legs giving out under the pressure of crippling emotions. She hit the floor with an unpleasant thump, her injured hand spitting out the remaining fragments of glass that still clung stubbornly in the nooks it made in her flesh. Blood stained her wrist and fingers, the only reminder of her loss of control.

"What?" Pam couldn't believe what she was hearing. She faced the very real possibility that she was hearing things but Tara's current defeated position spoke otherwise.

Tara reached up to grip handfuls of her hair in her hands, as if the action would keep her skull from exploding under the pressure of her reeling mind. Her eyes were wild, feral almost as they looked up at the blonde. "You're supposed to hate me." Tara's voice was pitiful, the expression on her face bewildered. It was as if she were counting on Pam's disdain, counting on her maker to look at her with unmitigated disgust and abhorrence. The absence of any of these reactions from the blonde unraveled her and like a person lost out at sea, she didn't know which direction to go or what to do.

"Hate you?" Pam echoed, her voice mirroring Tara's bewilderment. She gaped at the vampire situated on the floor, her mind infuriatingly blank as she struggled to take in this sudden turn of events. "That's why you've been telling me what you've done." A sudden spark of understanding kindled to life in the blonde's eyes and they widened dramatically. "You _want_ me to _hate_ you?" Pam's voice was etched in incredulousness.

A self-deprecating laugh bubbled from Tara's throat, the sound grating on both vampires' nerves. "How can you not? Look at what I've done to you…to _us_." Her body shook under the burden of sobs she refused to let loose. "You were right, you're _always_ right." Her tone was bitter again. "I fucked it all up; you, me, _this_." She gestured at the space between them. "Once a fuck up, always a fuck up." There was a manic tone to Tara's voice now, a ring of depravity that elicited a shiver from Pam.

It was all so clear to Pam now, the reason for Tara forcing them both to revisit Tara's acts of brutality, the way she made no qualms about killing and torturing those drainers in front of the blonde, why she purposely picked fights, made them go round and round in circles.

Tara _wanted_ to be punished. She _wanted_ to be hated. By Pam.

Pam pushed herself off the wall and blurred over to Tara. The blonde's sudden appearance caused the dark-skinned vampire to flinch and she shrank back, her back pressed flat up against the wall in an attempt to keep some distance between their bodies.

Pam was unfazed by Tara's less than willing desire to be approached. She crouched down in front of her child, reached out with both hands and cupped Tara's cheeks, uncaring of how the younger vampire recoiled as their skins made contact.

"You stupid _bitch_." Pam's voice was etched with tears, her eyes bloody with them. Her entire body shook, her hands trembling even as they remained pressed against either side of Tara's face. "You ask for the impossible. _Hate _you? I don't know how to do that. I _won't_." She forced a semblance of calm into her voice, injected a deliberate note of determination. "I can be mad at you, pissed at you, even infuriated at you. I can love you, desire you, lust after you. I can be annoyed, irritated, amused but hate?" Pam shook her head and leaned down to press her forehead against Tara's. "Hating you is something I have never been able to do."

"Why?" Tara's voice was broken, so utterly defeated. Pam's hands burned where they touched her, the softness of the blonde's palms searing the skin on her cheeks. She was unworthy of being touched, unworthy of _Pam's_ touch. She tried to pull away but Pam tightened her hold, gripping at Tara's face until it almost hurt. "How can you not hate me after everything I've put us through?"

"Damn it, because I still love you!" The pained but resolute declaration shocked them both into silence, eyes of obsidian locking onto chips of sapphire. Pam swallowed. Hard. "I still love you," she admitted hoarsely, tears of scarlet twirling lazily down pale cheeks. "I've always loved you. I'll _always_ love you."

Tara's browed furrowed in pain, her chest contracting in a manner that would have made it hard to breathe had she needed to. She tried to pull away again, a physical reaction to her maker's bold words but Pam was unwavering, following Tara's movements until she was kneeling in between Tara's thighs. Her fingernails were creating half-moon grooves on either side of Tara's face, worrying the ebony skin but not hard enough to draw blood.

"It would be easier, wouldn't it?" Pam's voice was soft, taking on an almost ethereal quality. "To hate you. For you to hate me. It would have given me the strength to erase all the bullshit, the tools to bury the past, to bury _us_." She choked back a sob. "But I can't. I can't hate you, Tara." Blue eyes were iridescent with anguish, the blonde's face distraughtly beseeching. "Don't ask that of me."

Tara tore her gaze away from Pam's, the look in the blonde's eyes unbearable, her admission like the kiss of a whip on her skin. She tried to wriggle out of Pam's touch, struggled to widen the space between them but like the stubborn person she was, Pam simply moved forward as Tara scooted desperately back.

"I. Love. You."

Simple words pronounced carefully, deliberately and they felt like silver spikes to Tara's chest. She baulked, her face crumbling in agony. "Stop it," she replied, her own voice raspy with tears. She reached up and tried to pry Pam's hands away from her face but there was no real strength behind her actions. Instead, fingers of ebony curled over ivory wrists until Tara was all but clinging onto Pam. "Stop," she repeated, her voice brittle with pain.

Pam shook her head again, pressed her forehead more firmly against Tara's. "I love you."

It was bitterly ironic, this impasse Pam and Tara had found themselves in. A century ago, Pam would have been the one who recoiled away from those three words, would have been the one to be hard, cruel, empty. Now, their roles were reversed and Pam was suddenly in the same position Tara had been in all those years ago. She was now the one having to pick Tara up, brush her off and remind her that she was someone worth loving. She was the one who had to use everything Tara had taught her about love, about life, about being someone else's everything to lift Tara out of the black hole she had sunk into fifty years ago.

"Tara," Pam breathed out softly, quietly. "Tara."

Tara's eyes squeezed shut, Pam's gently caressing fingers over her cheeks like licks of flames, burning and scorching wherever they touched. A sob tore out of her throat and she attempted to swallow it but it like a cork shooting out from the water, it spouted through the open seam of her lips, paving the way for more sobs to follow. She broke down, the hands encircling Pam's wrists, tightening to an almost painful degree as she clung onto her maker with a desperation that was unparalleled.

Pam gathered Tara into arms, heaving a sigh of relief as Tara folded into her, her hands finding purchase on the front of her t-shirt and gripping it with desperate intensity. The younger vampire's entire lithe frame was shaking violently, sobs born from the ashes of self-disgust and guilt tearing themselves out of Tara's throat with vicious intent. They wracked her body, sent muscles quivering under its rage and for Tara's frayed nerves to buckle under its pressure.

"Tara." Her child's name was fast becoming a mantra, each repeat of it spoken like a reverent prayer meant to soothe frazzled nerves. "Tara."

Tara cried harder, cried for herself, cried for Pam, cried for all that was broken and lost between them. Fifty years of losing sight of who she was, functioning under a miasma of pain, rage and hatred and punishing everything that stepped into her path. Fifty years of self-destruction, of polluting her veins, her heart, her soul with every atrocity she could conjure. All that she had done, all the crimes that she executed, all the sins she committed, were washed away by three simple words.

As if Pam could hear Tara's thoughts, she whispered them again, her voice a low lull in Tara's ear:

"I love you."

**TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N** – I need to thank each and every one of you for your continued support of this story. Your reviews and feedback mean the world and I am grateful that you take the time to leave me your thoughts. Again, I apologize for the infrequent updates but real life is being quite the brutal master right now and I can only push my brain so far. That said, here is the long overdue update. I hope you enjoy and if you have a moment, let me know what you think. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 13**

Drip.

Propelled by a deep-seated instinct that she had honed and turned into a habit since her fledgling vampire days, Pam was barely cognizant of the alabaster hand that snuck out to catch the perfect teardrop of blood that fell from her nose. It splashed onto the palm of her hand, a distorted circle of crimson that stood out like a sore thumb against skin of snowy white.

Pam paid it no mind, her hand once again moving only to deposit that drop of flattened blood onto the hem of her t-shirt. Blood on her clothes was nothing new. Blood on any piece of clothing was part and parcel of being a vampire. Whether it be from feeding, a messy kill, or physical altercation, blood on attire was as commonplace to vampires as spit up on a mother's shoulder.

Humans, as it was in their nature, had used this valuable piece of information to their advantage, developing a laundry detergent that catered specifically to blood-stained clothing. Now, _Bleed Out_ Detergents dominated the market, its bold blood-red bottle, Gothic lettering and black label attracting and appealing to vampires and humans alike.

But Pam wasn't interested in her now less than unblemished t-shirt. As fashion conscious as she used to be, her love for all things materialistic, particularly clothes and shoes, it had made her hyper-aware of her surroundings and the potential ways it could mar her perfectly thought out choice of attire.

Now, though, her sole concentration was on the vampire curled up on the other side of the bed.

Tara was in an almost fetal position beneath the covers, her body turned purposefully away from Pam, knees halfway drawn up to her chest. She was asleep, dawn having broken outside a mere hour ago. But even in the arms of slumber, her body was on the defensive, curling in on itself only to reveal a back that was rigid and hard as a brick wall.

A back that a pale hand currently lay purchase on. Pam's palm was impossibly light where it rested above the thin material of Tara's wife beater, her presence meant to soothe, not alarm. A thumb was brushing short strokes over and over the same spot where it lay, the rest of her fingers splayed out gently over the simple black tank top.

Drip.

The same hand of ivory snaked out once again, catching two droplets of blood that stained a bloody path down to Pam's upper lip. A tongue peeked out, absentmindedly cleaning the space between Pam's lip and nose of the crimson mess. The hand that had caught the falling blood, a result of The Bleeds, smoothed the ruby red liquid onto the side of her t-shirt. The cotton material of Pam's sleep shirt was greedy as it rapidly soaked up the blood, allowing it to stain into its individual threads.

But Pam paid the growing splotches of blood on her t-shirt no heed, her collar already a dark scarlet from the series of bloody drips that descended from her ears.

No. She was more interested, more invested in the vampire that slept a few shy feet away from her own reclining body.

Pam's azure blue eyes were dull with exhaustion, the pull of dawn drawing her lids to half-mast as the blonde resisted sleep to observe her sleeping child. The blonde was cautious, wary even, every instinct screaming that should she shut her eyes and succumb to slumber, she would wake to an empty bed.

She didn't want that. Empty beds and empty rooms had been her reality, her own personally crafted nightmare for fifty years. She wanted Tara here. More importantly, she wanted answers.

Looking at Tara now, blue eyes vigilantly scanning every nook and crevice of her child's body, Pam knew that Tara had barely begun to forgive herself, the dark-skinned vampire hellbent on seeking punishment and reprimand. She had looked to her maker for that, wanted the blonde to set her alight with the flames of hatred by dousing her with the gasoline of disgust. She had wanted to burn, wanted to carve a deeper hole into the chasm of self-loathing she lived inside for the last fifty years.

"No more," Pam whispered softly to her child, her voice marred with fatigue. She watched the hand she had placed on Tara's back, watched it come alive as the other fingers came into play, syncing with her gently moving thumb by gently scratching soothing lines down the thin material of Tara's wife beater.

As the blonde tried to inject a fusion of calm and comfort into Tara's rigid body via her gently stroking fingers, she couldn't help but recall the first time they lay together like this, with Tara's back to her. It was a night of discoveries, the night they lay together in these very positions on their bed. Positions that had been brought on by a silly argument that had quickly stampeded out of control, their fiery temperaments adding fuel to a fire that turned and exploded into a raging inferno of raised voices and harsh words.

A fond smile touched Pam's lips and her body subconsciously inched forward towards Tara a fraction as the memories of that night washed over her.

xxxxxxxx

_Pam stepped cautiously into the bedroom, well aware that it was currently occupied by her still fuming mate. _

_Tara was ensconced on the bed, back flat on the mattress as she held an antique _Game Boy_ console out in front of her. The reclining vampire's face was scrunched in concentration, her thumbs a virtual blur as they danced over the buttons of the outdated device. _

_Pam closed the door behind her with a soft snick, well aware that she had now effectively boxed herself in with a pissed off Tara and a room that was filled with her progeny's palpable anger._

_It was in the bond too, Tara's vexation. Right now, just above Pam's breastbone, the bond was buzzing like a swarm of agitated bees with Tara's less than happy emotions, her progeny making no qualms about how she was feeling towards her maker at that very precise moment. _

_Pam sighed, a soft, almost mournful sound as she rounded to the other side of the bed, one hand absentmindedly rubbing at the spot where their bond was humming in discontent. The act was subconscious, spurred by her own protective instincts towards her child. By physical comforting the spot above the bond, Pam believed that she could somehow project that sense of peace and calm to Tara._

_But, her progeny clearly wasn't in the mood to be consoled. Pam's close proximity to her pouting child as she reached the bed had an instantaneous effect: Tara turned on her side, presenting her maker with a back that was nothing more than one coiled, tense block of muscle. _

_The blonde sighed again, clambering onto the bed with a smooth elegance that could only come from being immortal. "Tara," she breathed out softly, purposely monitoring the tone of her voice, ensuring that it was kept to a soothing and non-antagonizing decibel. _

_Tara remained willfully silent, adding to the tense air that permeated the room like a bad smell. The oppressive atmosphere was only broken by the tinny sounds emanating from the _Game Boy_ Tara held delicately in the palms of her hands. _

_Pam regarded her child with a conflicting mix of emotions; exasperation and affection flitted liked clouds across the sky over the blonde's flawless features as Prussian blue eyes tracked a lazy path down Tara's profile. _

"_Must you be so petulant?" The blonde's voice was devoid of its usual, dry drawl, her native cadence making itself known in those soft, rounded vowels. _

_When Tara answered her maker by turning up the volume of the game console, Pam rolled her eyes and unfurled her lanky body down onto the bed. One hand reached up only to tuck itself beneath a bed of wavy golden-blonde hair, the other alighting on a flat, cashmere sweater covered stomach. The hand on her stomach fanned out its long fingers, each one running its tip over the softness of her frankly expensive sweater._

"_You know in this matter, I am right," Pam spoke to her silent, stubborn mate. Eyes cut from pure Sapphire traced the tapestry that lined the ceiling of their massive four-poster bed as she carried on their one-sided conversation "What you proposed – running half-cocked into that faction of vampire bigots – you would have gotten yourself killed." Blue eyes circled back to her child, seriousness darkening the gray of her irises. "I won't let you die, Tara. Even if I have to silver you to the bed myself, I won't let you go running off without thinking it through." Acute pain flashed across Pam's face at the thought of losing Tara. It was an incomprehensible notion, living a life without her mate. "And you know you weren't," the blonde continued softly, her voice firm but not accusatory. "Thinking that is." _

_Silence._

_Punctuated by beeps and pings from the _Game Boy_._

_Pam heaved yet another sigh, a bad habit she had picked up ever since confining herself to eternity with one of the most unlikely candidates she would have ever chosen to be her progeny. But Tara __**was**__ her progeny. She was hers. _

_And she would not let her go without a fight. _

_A pale alabaster arm crept out, the rest of Pam's lanky body following until the blonde was resting on her side. Blue eyes watched as the arm dropped the flat of its palm onto the small of Tara's back. She felt her child tense upon her touch but it did not compel Pam to retract her hand. Instead, she began smoothing small circles over the beautifully tense muscles that made up Tara's back, gradually expanding them to wider spheres meant to soothe and comfort._

_No words were exchanged as Pam continued to stroke her child's back, alternating between gentle circles with the palm of her hand to tracing nonsensical patterns with the tips of her fingers. The blonde continued her administrations, a victorious grin pulling up the corner of her lips as she observed how Tara's visibly relaxed under her touch, tension and anger seeping out of her muscles and the bond. The tip of Pam's forefinger found the line of Tara's spine and she followed it up to where it disappeared beneath a curtain of sable hair. There, she sifted her fingers through the supple silky strands, marveling at its texture and softness._

"When you look in the mirror, I just wonder what you see," _Pam crooned, singing an old song from an older movie that had been one of Sookie and Tara's favorite holiday films. The blonde didn't have the singing voice her progeny possessed but she was still able to carry a tune without abusing any nearby ears_. "I wonder if you even know that you're beautiful to me."

_Pam was startled when Tara turned only to burrow into pale arms that automatically opened to accept its mate into them. She closed those arms around Tara, sandwiching the now shrilly beeping game console between them._

"_Tara," Pam spoke softly, ducking her head down so that she could ghost a kiss to the top of Tara's head. "You know I'm only trying to protect you."_

_Tara sighed but nodded. She buried her face into her maker's shoulder, inhaling that bouquet of lavender and vanilla that was an intrinsic part of Pam. "I know," she mumbled into Pam's sweater, her voice muffled but apologetic._

_Pam simply tightened her hold, rolled onto her back and tucked Tara preciously, carefully and lovingly into her side. _

xxxxxxxx

Pam was brought out of her bittersweet musings when she felt Tara move slightly under her hand. Eyes the color of a deep blue sky refocus on its quarry, observing the way her child's tightly clenched fist tucked itself beneath a strong, proud chin.

A melancholy smile tugged at the blonde's lips. It was funny how Tara's current sleeping position evoked in the blonde, a sense of familiarity and wariness. Her child loved to curl in on herself while she slept, that fist always finding its way to the nook under Tara's chin. When Tara slept like that, it bespoke of an innocence that tugged at Pam's heart and made the blonde want to fight away any demons and monsters that would dare threaten her child.

But now, looking at Tara and the way she slept, it was alien. Familiar, but alien. Whereas the position would have once told Pam that Tara was deeply asleep and sailing through dreams untroubled, this eerie mirror image of that position screamed "don't touch" and "alone".

The blonde tucked a full bottom lip between her teeth, chewing on the pillow-y flesh contemplatively as she inched the hand she had on Tara's back slowly down to the hem of Tara's t-shirt. There was a moment's hesitation before the blonde threw caution to the wind and slipped long fingers beneath Tara's wife beater.

The intimate contact of skin against skin triggered a gut reaction in Tara that snapped the vampire out from the cobwebs of sleep. Lids of an ebony hue sprang back to reveal eyes of wild midnight and Tara twisted around in an almost violent fashion. One dark arm lashed out, gripping at Pam's pale wrist, the rest of the dark-skinned vampire's body following as Tara forced Pam back onto her back.

The disoriented vampire hovered over Pam, eyes feral and fangs distended over a snarl that was equal parts terrified and enraged.

Pam, having gone through this with Tara a few nights ago, remained slack and submissive beneath her child. She made no attempts to move, simply locking clear blue eyes with frantic and discombobulated chips of pitch.

"Tara." The blonde's voice was unerringly calm, her face almost serene. Her cobalt blue eyes never wavered from Tara's dark orbs. "Tara, it's Pam." Dulcet tones wafted from between Pam's lips. "You're safe. I promise."

Tara's brows furrowed, her mind reeling as it tried to corral a sense of cohesion into her scrambled thoughts. When the smog of not knowing where she was cleared from her eyes, she looked down at Pam.

"Shit."

Mirroring her past actions, having been in this unfortunate position with her maker only a few shy nights ago, Tara released the hold she had on Pam and rolled back to the other end of the bed. She sat up and dangled her feet over the side of the bed frame, head dropping down to allow her palms to cradle it. In her new position, Tara looked the very picture of desolation, her posture fairly screaming with misery.

Pam sat up slowly, her movements sluggish from exhaustion but also deliberately slow so as to not startle her child. "Hey," she whispered softly as she moved to sit behind Tara. "Hey."

Tara flinched as Pam's hand descended gently onto her nearly bare shoulder and she jerked out of her maker's grasp. "Don't," she rasped hoarsely. She scooted up to the head of the bed in order to put some distance between her body and Pam's. "Just…don't."

"Tara…" Pam wanted to ask why, wanted to dishonor Tara's wishes but the answer came to the blonde before she could even formulate the question in her mind.

It suddenly occurred to the blonde that Tara had not allowed herself tactile contact in fifty years. Not in that way that counted, that comforted. Sure, she had fucked her way across continents and countries but never once in her recounts had she spoken about being touched in return. And any form of touching she engaged in with another individual was marred with the implications of sex. There was always a motive behind her brief touches with another person motive, always a purpose. Beyond that, the dark-skinned vampire disallowed anybody to bestow upon her the simple amenity of a hug or a reassuring brush of fingers against skin.

Pam looked at her child with sad eyes. "Tara," she tried again, her voice low as she reached out to the other vampire.

Tara shook her head, the abrupt action sending tendrils of sable hair to swing wildly about her face. She drew her knees up to her chest, widening the ever growing gap between Pam and her. "Please." Her voice was desperate and pleading. "It hurts," she confessed, her tone betraying the depth of her pain. When Pam frowned and projected confusion through the blue of her eyes, Tara explained. "It hurts when you touch me."

Tara's explanation was like a slap in the face. Pam swallowed, her jaw clenching as she tried to conceal the stain of hurt blossoming over her eyes with the band aids of sympathy and understanding. The blonde knew she had failed when Tara's own eyes brimmed over with guilt before her child's face dissolved into a blank canvas.

Deciding to let the issue go for now, Pam raised her hands in the universal gesture of surrender. Keeping herself in Tara's line of sight, she maneuvered her body to the other side of the bed, making sure to keep a respectable distance between their bodies. The blonde could feel Tara's eyes on her, twin pools of obsidian warily taking note of her every move. Pam slid back under the covers then turned to face her troubled child.

"It's late," she declared, her voice quiet and unassuming. "Go back to sleep, Tara."

Tara struggled for a response and when words failed her, she managed to lock her haunted gaze onto Pam's concerned but calm blue ones for all of one second before she glanced away, unable to stand the gentle look in her maker's eyes.

No more words passed between maker and progeny as Tara too slipped back under the covers, pausing only to thumb away a dot of blood that clung precariously the corner of her left nostril. The younger vampire settled onto her side, once again facing away from Pam and leaving a huge gap between them on the bed.

Pam studied Tara diligently, waited the fifteen minutes it took before Tara finally allowed herself to slither back into the arms of slumber. When she was sure that her child was once again in the throes of sleep, she snuck out a hand, walked it across the dramatic void Tara deliberately put between them then slowly and very cautiously placed the flat of her palm over the curved line of Tara's back.

Tara tensed in her sleep but didn't wake and Pam waited another fifteen minutes, darkening her pillow and t-shirt with blood she frankly couldn't afford to lose before coaxing her thumb into drawing short, soothing lines over the thin material of Tara's tank top.

Tara's maker continued this reintroduction of soothing, just because touches well into the morning, hoping that subliminally, her child would relearn what it was like to be touched with love and care.

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** - Song used is...err...I don't know the title but it was a song from the great holiday classic movie, A Smoky Mountain Christmas. No copyright intended, I was just borrowing it.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N** – I know I've been getting sidetracked writing one shots but for those still following this story, I'm not abandoning it. I just needed to recharge my creative batteries so I could handle this new update with a clearer mindset. And here it is, chapter 14. Reviews and critiques are more than welcome as always. Happy reading!

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**Chapter 14**

_One Week Later_

Pam looked up when she heard the door snick open. Cerulean blue eyes were fringed with relief, momentarily hiding the permanent mark of trepidation that Tara had unknowingly tattooed onto the gray of her irises as they met unreadable pools of midnight.

Tara found herself locked in stasis, her maker's steady, storm blue eyes arresting her to the spot. She stood in the threshold of the door, spellbound by inertia as she held Pam's soft, openly non-judgmental look.

The silent bridge of communication did not last. As quickly as Pam tried to assemble a pathway of building blocks to her child, Tara would just as quickly lower her gaze, effectively hindering the process. And when the younger vampire would dare to chance a look at her again, the vast emptiness in those dark eyes would only obliterate any form of progress Pam had previously made.

The blonde's sigh of frustration flitted like a ghost from between full lips into the air as Tara did as Pam predicted, looking away and hiding the action behind the pretense of having to close the door. Her child stood with her back to Pam and the blonde could almost taste Tara's internal struggle as she stood motionless by the door.

Stay or go? Turn around or run away?

Pam relaxed shoulders she didn't even know had tensed when Tara finally pivoted on her heel, once again facing her maker who was ensconced on the bed, an antique book sequestered on her lap. When Pam made a move to get up to help her food-laden progeny Tara shook her head, indicating with a jerk of her chin that Pam remain seated.

Pam regarded Tara with careful, wary eyes. In the week that had passed after her child's painful confession, the blonde found that she was having to check and monitor every simple gesture she made, every facial expression that crossed her face. It had gotten to the point where the blonde was having to visualize, to predict what her face would look like before she would present it in Tara's direction.

It was draining, having to watch her actions with such intensive scrutiny. Especially around the one person who had never once asked her to be anything but herself. But Pam had to remind herself that the Tara that occupied her apartment at the present time was not the same carefree, unburdened soul she had known and loved for over a century.

The blonde lowered her head, allowing herself a moment's reprieve from having to act and behave a certain way whenever Tara was in close proximity. Strands of golden-blonde hair fell about her face, a physical barrier of silk and color that hide the blonde's inner turmoil from her child.

Tara made no comment as she padded silently to the bed, the rustling of takeout bags the only audial indication of her approach. She sat the bags down, using the frame of the bed to support the contents inside lest they spill. Then, she bent to tug off her boots before straightening to shrug off her jacket. Tossing it onto the arm of a nearby chair, Tara gingerly, almost hesitantly crawled onto the bed, making sure to stay near the edge and away from Pam.

"Dinner," she announced softly, unnecessarily. She pulled the takeout bags towards her, hesitated slightly before she strategically placed it between her and her maker.

This deliberate act did not go unnoticed by Pam but she chose not to voice aloud her disquieting thoughts. Schooling her face into what she hoped was a neutral but non antagonizing expression, she lifted her head, gathering her flaxen hair back into a messy bun. The blonde had just finished tying back her hair when Tara nudged a blood-red, self-heating Tupperware container towards her maker.

"I remember you liked these," Tara spoke softly, her voice almost eerily calm. "Humans may be many thangs but dumb, they ain't."

Pam murmured her assent then followed it with an equally quiet "thank you" as she picke dup her container of AB- blood chicken noodle soup.

Technology this far into the future was a far cry from what it once was back in the 21st century. When corporate suits, entrepreneurs and playboys and girls caught wind of a niche market for blood food, they pumped millions upon millions of dollars into research and development facilities. The global economy had not seen such enthusiasm or drive since the marketing of electronics.

Now, _Bloody Foods Inc._ was a multi-billion organization that dominated the blood food market, mass producing everything from blood confectionery to TV dinners. The organization worked in tandem with _Red Cross International_ who supplied them blood for a percentage of their profits.

"I need you to finish every last drop," Tara insisted quietly as she opened her pizza box. Orders and observations were all Tara had going for her in the verbal department, small talk and intimate conversations too raw and insulting given their current predicament. The dark-skinned vampire swept a cursory gaze down Pam's body, still wholly unimpressed by what she saw. "You're still nothin' but skin and bones," she observed and though her face was impassive and her eyes flat, there was no mistaking the trill of unhappiness clanging against her Southern lilt.

Pam responded by hitching a pale eyebrow but when Tara started pointedly back, she acquiesced with a demure nod before ducking her head in submission. "Yes, ma'am," she murmured, careful not to let her verbal response come out coated with the stickiness of sarcasm. She removed the spoon from its hidden compartment beneath the cover and dipped it into the steamy soup.

Tara in turn, took a bite of her B+ pepperoni pizza, relishing the solid if slightly wet texture. There would never be anything like feeding straight from the source but even a predominantly liquid diet could take its toll on even the most purists of vampires. As such, Tara made no qualms about enjoying the occasional decadence that blood foods offered.

The younger vampire tore off another chunk of her pizza, chewing in an almost contemplative manner as she observed Pam from the corner of her eye. Dark eyes fashioned from obsidian were almost turbulent with critique as they took note of each mouthful of blood soup Pam ingested.

"I can feel you staring," Pam drawled lightly, her dry, Southern cadence making a sudden appearance as she scooped a shred of "chicken" into her mouth.

The return of Pam's stalwart Southern twang, so painfully absent the past few weeks, was so disconcerting and unexpected that Tara couldn't help but snap her head up in shock.

"I'm eating, Tara," Pam continued, her voice taking on a softer inflection as her progeny gave up the pretense of concentrating on her pizza to stare unrepentantly at the blonde.

"Good." It was the only feasible, only safe word that Tara would let slip uncensored from her lips. An onyx gaze rested briefly on soft pools of cobalt blue before Tara diverted her eyes down to the pizza box. She reached for her half-eaten slice and bit off a chunk of "crust", chewing deliberately before swallowing.

"I got us some blood hot chocolate too," Tara added around a new mouthful of pizza. She shoved the last bite into her mouth before leaning forward towards the takeout bags. Digging into one, she fished out two maroon cylinders labeled, _Bloody Foods Inc., O+ Hot Chocolate_. Tara pulled out the bottle warming switch nestled by the bottom of the first cylinder and flipped it to "on" before doing the same to the other. "Give it a few minutes," Tara stated, setting the gently humming cylinders in front of her.

"This is starting to feel suspiciously like a slumber party," Pam mumbled around her spoon as she took in the way she and Tara were positioned on the bed, a spread of blood foods and drinks between them. "Are we having a sleepover?" she couldn't help but tease gently, hoping that a bit of humor would help dispel the tense and somewhat awkward air between them.

Nothing.

Pam's teasing fell flat under Tara's irresponsiveness. Blue eyes observed the way Tara seemed to shrink in on herself upon hearing the lighthearted remark, her child clearly having grown unaccustomed in the face of casual teasing over the past fifty years. Pam's brows furrowed, mouth opening to say something else but she faltered, unsure of what she should verbalize next.

"Don't little girls talk about their hopes and dreams and whatnot during sleepovers?" Pam tried again after a moment of silence, determined to remain undeterred by Tara's lack of interaction. She allowed the question to hang, invited in the pregnant pause that she knew Tara would indulge in as her child struggled to cotton on to having a casual conversation with another being. As she waited, Pam took another sip of her soup, delighting in its warmth. She scanned Tara discreetly from the corner of her eye as she spooned another mouthful into her mouth, waiting to see if her child would take the bait.

A muscle ticked in Tara's jaw, the younger vampire's hackles rising slightly as Pam waited patiently for her response, having thrown the ball in her court. If there was one thing Tara hated, it was being pushed and right now, she was fighting hard against a litany of harsh words that burned the back of her throat. Needing an outlet, she clamped down hard on her new slice of pizza, teeth ripping a little too viciously at the carefully crafted layers of "bread", "meat" and "cheese". Tara chewed almost savagely at the bit of pizza in her mouth, purposefully taking her time as she waged an internal war with herself.

"Is that your roundabout way of saying that we should talk?" Tara finally ground out, her voice just shy of being frigid, her inflection skirting the borders of a warning growl.

Pam sighed despondently, suppressing the instinctive urge to flinch at her child's less than welcoming tone. She dragged her spoon through the contents of the Tupperware, searching for patience and answers in the ripples and whorls her spoon was making in the crimson liquid.

"I'm trying here, Tara," Pam uttered after a few tense minutes, her voice betraying her by emanating operatic notes of frustration and agitation. She looked up and locked eyes of sapphire with orbs of pitch. The former was full with a growing desperation whilst the latter was like an endless abyss of emptiness. "I'm trying to understand," she continued, her voice once more devoid of is Southern drawl. "-to fix what's broken between us." A sliver of anguish, pushed into the arctic blue of the blonde's eyes by resignation made center stage in Pam's weary gaze. "But I can't keep doing this if you don't meet me halfway." The anguished blossomed, creeping outwards and bleeding out the blue of her eyes until they were a stormy gray. "Is it so hard for you to just try?"

Tara wrenched her eyes away from Pam's, teeth grinding against each other so hard that it was audible. She toyed with the pizza crust she held between her fingertips, eyes roaming every which way but in Pam's direction. Finally, out of options and nowhere to run, she dropped the uneaten crust into the pizza box and forced herself to lift her head.

"What else do you want to know?" Tara's voice was hoarse, her entire body rigid as if she were preparing for a physical blow. Her folded legs twitched, its muscles aching to feel the burn running out the door would bring and her hands were clenched into tight fists where they now rested on her lap.

"Where did you go?" Pam asked, taking advantage of the door of opportunities Tara had opened. Blunt as ever, the blonde barreled through the gate, instantly posing a question that had been simmering at the back of her mind for the last fifty years. "When you left Jessica's apartment in Manhattan, where did you?" she clarified, her own lanky frame tensing in anticipation as she waited for Tara's reply.

"Australia." At Pam's surprised intake of breath, Tara continued in a whisper that was chained with over a thousand guilty notes and retching with pain. "It was the furthest I could get from you." The hurt and heartache that the statement stabbed Tara with was so overwhelming that she had to hang her head, lowering it until her chin touched her chest. Tara blinked rapidly, trying to stave off an onslaught of blood-tears that would only solidify her growing signs of weakness.

"Oh." Pam sucked in another noisy breath, fingers almost snapping the spoon she held in two as they tightened exponentially around the flimsy plastic cutlery. Tara's admission was like a punch to the gut and try as she might, Pam wasn't able to keep the stricken expression she knew was on her face at bay. "Oh," she repeated stupidly, the word the only coherent thing to come out of her mouth.

Tara stared fiercely into her lap, her slightly coiled posture both defensive and desolate. Silence was a noisy, relentless creature, bounding back and forth between the two suddenly voiceless vampires and feeding off their pain and anguish.

It was Tara who finally broke it, reining silence back into its cage, kicking and clawing with a firm yank on its chain. "I paid a witch to cover my tracks and hide my scent," she began, her voice reverting back to its eerie calmness. "Then I glamored away the memories of our transaction before boarding the plane…"

xxxxxxxx

_Sydney's George Street was alive with activity, its streets bursting with drunken college kids, corporate suits, shoppers, tourists and the odd family or two. People poured in and out of bars, cafes, cinemas and retail shops, a constant, endless stream of buzzing conversations and laughter following in their wake._

_Tara paid the people and her surroundings no mind as she meandered through the crowd with startling ease, her movements graceful and flawless if a little agitated. Turning into an alley, she located the nondescript sign for the vampire bar at the corner end of the mercifully abandoned alley and swiftly beelined for it._

_The bouncer inside greeted Tara with a curt nod, took the cover charge from her hand then waved her in. Tara strode straight to the bar with purpose, the quietly dangerous look on her face carving the vampire a wide sphere of personal space. _

"_B pos _Bloodsky_. Straight," Tara muttered as she hopped onto a stool, shrugging off her black denim jacket to reveal a plain white tank top. She tossed her jacket onto the counter, grabbed the shot of blood whisky the bartender slid towards her, then promptly threw it down her throat. "Another," she ordered brusquely. "And keep 'em comin'."_

"_Rather early in the night for a vamper to be drownin' her sorrows," the bartender observed quietly even as he poured her another shot. His thick Australian drawl sat oddly on Tara's ears even after having been in the vibrant city of Sydney for two weeks. "A Sheila such as yaself shouldn't be spewin' in a dingy pub all by her lonesome."_

"_I came here to drink, not to listen to advice," Tara snarled before she tossed back another shot. She slammed the shot glass down and glared at the bartender, daring him to say something._

"_Suit yourself." He poured her another shot then set the bottle of B+ _Bloodsky _down next to her. "I'll leave this here and push off," he offered quietly, his calm and unaffected demeanor only serving to irate Tara more. _

_To her credit, she refrained from biting out a cutting remark, choosing instead to slap a fifty dollar note onto the counter. "Keep the change," she said by way of dismissing him. _

_Tara remained in that bar all night, a motionless figure perched by the corner edge of the bar. She could have been mistaken for a statue had it not been for the way her arm would flex and bend to pour shot after shot of blood whisky into her crimson stained glass. The bartender kept a cautionary eye on Tara but aside from the thunderous black cloud that hung over the dark-skinned vampire's head like a flashing neon sign of warning, she gave no outward indication that she would stir up any trouble._

_It was near closing time and Tara was on her way to emptying her second bottle of _Bloodsky_ when the bartender flipped on an outdated radio set. A woman's voice immediately enveloped the near empty bar, her tone haunted with heartache and brimming with anguish._

I'm tired, so tired of crying  
Tired of reaching for a memory in the middle of the night  
So sick of pain running through my veins  
Overtaking my whole life

_The pain Tara had been bottling up the past few weeks came careening out of its tightly corked bottle, erupting like an overzealous volcano. It streaked through her, tongues of fire licking at nerves that were still raw and bleeding. She choked on a sob, fingers tightening minutely on the shot glass until it fractured and crumbled like crumbs in her hand._

I'll try anything not to hurt for a while  
Yeah, I'll try anything not to hurt for a while

_Tears of crimson rimmed the vampire's eyes and her shoulders shook in an almost violent fashion as Tara struggled against the raging storm of hurt and pain that clawed at the broken pieces of her heart. She could literally feel her soul being flayed, the memories of what transpired between her and Pam still so fresh and so raw that it was simply incompressible to revisit them. Tara dropped the ruined shot glass onto the bar, her hand dotted with blood that looked as though someone had stamped Morse code onto her palm. Her newly healed hand moved up her body of its own accord, coming to rest above her breast bone. When the palm of her hand failed to pick up that low hum that was indicative of the maker/progeny bond, Tara was helpless against the strangled cry that tore viciously out of her throat._

It ain't like me to be cussin'  
Getting tore up in this bar  
Guess a good ole girl can backslide  
Running from a broken heart

_The bartender regarded Tara with sympathetic eyes, years of tending bar and a myriad of customers allowing him to quickly assess that whilst the dark-skinned vampire may be physically okay, internally, emotionally, she was a wreck. He was also wise enough, smart enough to know that she would rebuke all help and support, most likely responding to a gentle murmur of assurance with a snarl and a punch to the face. So he simply set down a new shot glass in front of her, swept away the broken pieces of the old one then continued to wipe down the bar. _

I pray the good Lord ain't a-lookin'  
And takin' notes on me tonight  
Cuz I'll try anything not to hurt for a while

_Tara's hands were shaking as she poured herself a new shot. She cursed aloud when the glass overfilled and blood whisky dribbled off the edge. Picking up the overflowing shot of _Bloodsky_, she brought it to her lips and knocked it back with a violent flick of her wrist. _

I'm tired, so tired of crying  
Tired of reaching for a memory in the middle of the night  
So sick of pain running through my veins  
Overtaking my whole life

"_We're closin' I'm afraid," the bartender told Tara softly when he finished tidying up the bar. He had plowed through his clean up at a slower than usual pace, giving Tara time to finish her drink and compose herself. _

_Tara swiped an angry hand over her eyes, effectively smudging scarlet stains around them and the back of her hand. She swayed slightly as she stood, the combination of too much blood and alcohol making her body sluggish as it tried to process the excess crimson liquid. _

"_Here." The bartender hesitated for a fraction of a minute, torn between wanting to help and wanting to leave well enough alone before he fished out a card and slipped it over to Tara. "If you're looking for a means of escape, this is the place to go." He wasn't sure if giving this despondent vampire that particular card was the best of ideas but there was an air of such sadness, such desperation for a reprieve of any kind around her, that it compelled him to offer her a way out of her palpable misery._

_Tara spared the retreating bartender the briefest of glances before her dark, exhausted and pain-laden eyes fell onto the clean lines of the card._

But I'll try anything not to hurt for a while  
Yeah, I'll try anything not to hurt for a while

xxxxxxx

"What was on the card, Tara?" Pam's voice questioned when Tara halted mid-story, effectively going mute and blanketing both in dense silence. The blonde's voice was soft as she spoke, her naturally raspy tone successfully shaking Tara out of her reverie.

Tara looked up slowly, her head lifting in such a slow manner that the act seemed agonizing. The look in her eyes when Tara finally settled a pitch-black gaze at Pam was so haunted that the blonde felt the bottom of her stomach drop out in response. Pam swallowed, her appetite all but gone as fear and dread zeroed in on the sensitive nerves at the base of her spine. They hit their mark and terror chewed a cursed path up her back as Tara remained frighteningly silent.

"Tara?" Pam wasn't sure if she wanted to venture down this avenue of conversation for she knew that what would come out of her child's mouth next would inexplicably leave deep striations in her still battered soul. But still, she continued, knowing that this was a path they had to embark on if they were to find any sort of resolution. "What was written on the card, Tara?"

Tara dropped a pair of obsidian eyes that were deader and emptier than a forest after it had been ravaged by fire onto her maker's face. "_Silver's Kiss_," she finally revealed in a voice that sent a tremor running down the length of Pam's frame. "It said, _Silver's Kiss_."

**TBC**

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**A/N 2 - **Song used is, _I'll Try Anything_ by Jasmine Rae feat. Joe. Nichols. She's an Australian country music singer, appropriate given that I set Tara's flashback in Sydney.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N** – I feel like someone gave me an overdose or something because I wrote and wrote and wrote (note: _wrote_. As in with _pencil_ and _paper_) until I thought my hand would fall off. My initial plan was to get everything about _Silver's Kiss_ into this one chapter but low and behold, there was just too much I wanted to say about it. Hence, you get the "prologue" of it in this chapter and if you're good, maybe I'll be able to finished up the next chapter and have it posted this weekend. Happy reading and let me know what you think if you've got a spare moment.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

"_It said, _Silver's Kiss._"_

Pam's back went ramrod straight at the words, her face going disturbingly blank as her eyes darkened from an electric cerulean blue to a hard, steely gray. No words were exchanged as maker and progeny faced off each other, eyes locked and bodies of ivory and ebony motionless in wake of Tara's declaration.

Time was inconsequential and silence once again lorded the room, shrouding them in a layer of tension so thick that it was almost tangible, visible.

Minutes ticked by, each one growing louder and louder until their ears screamed in protest and their muscles corded in an almost painful manner.

It was Pam who finally spoke, her voice so measured, so steadily calm that the very air in the room seemed to hold its breath. "Did you go?" she finally managed to ask though her question was irrelevant. The blonde knew the answer her child would give even before her brain could formulate the question her throat would give a voice to.

Tara didn't move, couldn't have moved even if she tried. In all the years, all the decades she had spent with the woman sitting across the bed, she had never once, not once come across the look currently sitting on her maker's face. Pam's face was utterly smooth, her model-esque features rivaling that of a statue as she stared blankly at Tara. Not one muscle in her face twitched and if Tara didn't know better, she would have thought that Pam had turned into stone.

But Tara did know better. And if she didn't, her maker's eyes would have confirmed it for her. Eyes that held of a thousand different shades of blue, blending, fading and bleeding into a myriad of enigmatic blues and grays depending on her mood were fixed on Tara. They were eerie in their stillness yet terrifying in the way the irises seemed to ripple like a viscous fluid beneath that thin veneer of quiet calm. They froze Tara to the spot, ripping away her free will, her ability to move, to look away.

Tara had never been afraid of her maker, not in the ways that counted, that mattered. But now, looking at Pam with her glass-smooth eyes framed by a blank, expressionless face, Tara had never been more petrified.

"Answer the question, Tara." Soft words. Dangerous words. Trickling like sweet poison from full lips to splinter Tara's defenses.

The dark-skinned vampire swallowed thickly, her throat bobbing visibly as she attempted to force saliva past the growing lump in her throat. "Yes," she whispered, her voice etched with three degrees of terror, her Southern lilt drowning under the wave of her palpable apprehension.

Pam never moved, didn't so much as shift her weight on the bed. She leveled a gaze at Tara, her eyes a noxious mix of winter-blue and iron-gray. They bore into her progeny's dark orbs, orbs that stared back at Pam with so much trepidation and barely concealed dread that it almost made Tara's eyes shimmer.

"Why?" Pam's voice was so utterly serene in quality and timber that it made the hairs at the back of Tara's neck stand erect. The lump in her throat grew unbearable, choking her until she wanted to gag. "Why did you go?"

Tara forced down another swallow of saliva, hoping to dislodge what she was growing to believe was an actual, corporeal lump in her throat. She flinched slightly, paralyzed muscles burning at the slight, abrupt act as her esophagus constricted, sending flares of pain to go vibrating up her neck. The dark-skinned vampire wanted to look away, _needed_ to shield herself, to hide from the quietly chilling expression on Pam's face but her body was stationary, her head frozen in position.

And so Tara had no choice but to meet Pam's gaze head on, to answer the question her maker dangled before her like a noose.

"To forget you."

At the utterance of those words, Tara stepped forward, allowing the noose to slip over her head. It settled around her neck. And tightened.

xxxxxxxx

Silver's Kiss_ was a highly notorious, highly sought after and highly exclusive club that catered towards a very specific clientele. It was also an establishment steeped in controversy. Vampire and human authorities alike did not quite know what to make of the club, where its services stood in their human and vampire rights jurisdictions. The mere mention of the club raised issues about ethics, free will, whether what they were doing was acceptable or wrong. As such, the club's franchise had not only spread like wildfire across the globe but the supposed, possible illegality of the establishment, coupled with the club's ambiguity with the law, drew vampires to it like a moth to a flame._

_Tara had been questioning her motives all night and as she stood in front of some very high, very impressive and very intimidating solid silver doors, she had to wonder if her mind had finally snapped and she was imprisoned in some grand delusion of her own making. _

_Sydney's _Silver's Kiss_ club was situated in a remote corner of Darling Harbor, sequestered in a location that half concealed the establishment from the average passerby but not completely shrouded in shadow so as to make it difficult to find. _

_Eyes of a pure, clear midnight scanned the scene in front of her. The front entrance, two towering, gleaming doors of silver, were flanked by two vampires. One was a burly Asian male that seemed composed from one rippling, corded block of muscle. They bulged under his expensive Armani suit, stretching the material of his clothes taut. The other was a sinewy female, all deadly curves and legs that ran for miles. The male assessed Tara with an impassive, dismissive gaze but the female made no qualms about appraising Tara's simple getup of tank top, jeans, boots and denim jacket with eyes of a rich emerald green. _

_Those green eyes ran leisurely down Tara's lithe body, taking their sweet time in mapping out every curve, nook and crevice. They paused at an ample bosom, an appreciative light flickering in those green orbs before continuing down until they came to a stop at the zipper of Tara's tight, form fitting jeans. _

_A slow, deliberate smile crept across the female's face, her fangs peek-a-booing through the slowly parting lips and despite herself, Tara couldn't help but shiver in response, the female bouncer so boldly undressing her with her eyes, spiking her arousal._

_Catching the visible tremor, the female bouncer's lips curled, seduction radiating from her eyes. Her nostrils flared slightly, searching for the telltale scent of desire through the slightly salty air and when she hit her mark, her hungry stare bore into Tara's apprehensive yet aroused eyes of pitch. _

_Tara's chest hitched at the openly predatory look in the female's gaze. The female bouncer simply licked her lips in response. _

"_You're new," were the first words out of the female bouncer's mouth, doubling as a casual greeting to _Silver Kiss'_ newest client. She relaxed her stance slightly as she eyed Tara. "Pleasure or pain?"' she asked, her voice dripping sex, her register decidedly low and rough._

_Tara was still feeling the effects of the female bouncer's seductive act but the mocking undertone in the bouncer's voice snapped her back to reality. "None of your goddamn business," Tara snapped, partly in offence and partly to dispel just how unnerved she was at being so easily swayed by the first pretty face she came across._

_The bouncer chuckled, actually had the audacity to guffaw in Tara's face. "Well, look at that," she teased. "Jailbait has teeth." Her tone was patronizing, instantly raising Tara's hackles._

"_I've also got fangs," Tara snarled, distending her razor-sharp incisors. She took a menacing step forward, fists bunching in rage…_

_And suddenly found herself pinned to the wall by her throat next to the gleaming silver doors by the male bouncer. Tara hissed at him, fangs protruding over lips that were pulled back into a vicious snarl. She attempted a kick to his shins but his indomitable strength and lack of response to the kick betrayed his vast age over Tara. Dark eyes bore into her, quietly daring Tara to move._

_His partner, the female with the startling green eyes moved to stand next to him, directing Tara's attention to her. Amusement clouded those emerald eyes as she smiled at Tara. It was not a nice smile. _

"_Put away the baby fangs before you hurt yourself," she ordered sweetly._

"_Fuck you!" Tara spat out, struggling against the male's immovable arm against her throat. _

_The female bouncer's face darkened, her expression instantly morphing into smooth marble and masking any traces of humor. She took a purposeful step towards Tara's pinned body and despite herself, Tara felt the cold fingers of fear tickle the base of her spine._

"_You couldn't handle me, little girl." The female leaned in until they were almost nose to nose. There was suddenly a dangerous aura about her, subliminally informing Tara that this vampire, like the male, was centuries older than her. When the female bouncer next spoke, her voice was quietly menacing, frighteningly sincere. "I'd chew you up and spit you out whimpering to every deity your broken mind can conjure." Emerald eyes were suddenly hard as chips of rock as they stared Tara down. "I'd fill the night with a thousand of your screams, your body with a kind of torture you can't even begin to imagine." Cold breath caressed Tara's cheek and she winced when the bouncer reached out to grip her chin in steely fingers. "And while every iota of your being may scream at you to run, your mouth –" A lone finger traced the curvature of Tara's bottom lip. "–your mouth would __**beg**__ me to hurt you just a little bit more."_

_Terror was a very real, very tangible entity, curling around Tara like a languid snake. And yet, underneath that fear, that cold wash of dread, arousal and heat were evident, entwining around each other and manifesting into a pool of moisture between her legs._

_Unable to do anything else, Tara swallowed. Hard._

"_Let her go."_

_All three turned in unison at the sound of a new voice. A woman of Amazonian stature appeared before them, her arrival so sudden, so silent that none of the three vampires had sensed her come. _

_Tara gawked at the newcomer. She was a vampire too, that much Tara knew. She was also remarkably tall with feminine curves that probably fell men and women alike. Cascades of ink-black hair tumbled down her back, curling just above her the swell of her ass. The dim street lamp picked out the blue highlights in those wavy raven tresses, giving the woman a look of a goddess. But it was her eyes that enraptured Tara. Violet eyes that sat framed within a face that only an immortal would dare wear. Violet eyes that were seemingly alive in its viscous fluidity, ebbing and flowing in the confines of pupils and irises so that the colors seemed interchangeable as they shifted from lilac to amethyst to violet to mauve and back again._

_The club's bouncers were quick to react to this woman's presence, confirming to Tara that she was of a higher authority in the club's managerial hierarchy. The male immediately withdrew his arm from where it had been pressing against Tara's throat and stepped back whilst the female mirrored his actions. They both turned in tandem, bowing their heads simultaneously in apology._

"_Apologies, m'lady," the male spoke, his voice a deep baritone that seemed to rumble up from the deep confines of his chest. "We did not know she was yours." His head dipped lower in remorse. _

"_She's not." _

_The woman's voice was a curious sound that tickled Tara's ears, its rich timbre tinged with an accent that even after a century on this earth, Tara couldn't place. She watched as the woman glided towards her, her billowing, flowing skirts giving the approaching vampire the illusion that she was somehow weightless and floating. _

"_However, this is not the way we treat our guests," the unnamed woman continued in the same calm, almost serene tone. "Please, return to your posts."_

_The bouncers obeyed immediately, returning to stand sentinel on either side of the imposing silver doors. That was when Tara noticed that one of the doors was ajar. Onyx eyes snapped to the woman's hands._

_They were gloveless. _

"_Come," the woman offered as she came to a stop in front of Tara. She held out a gloveless hand and bestowed upon Tara, a reassuring smile. _

_Tara did not know what it was that propelled her to take the proffered hand but she did without an inkling of hesitation, allowing the woman to lead her through those silver doors._

_No words were exchanged as the women disappeared inside, the doors closing behind them. They walked down a dimly lit hallway that yawned out into what seemed to be the main bar area._

"_Welcome to _Silver's Kiss_," the woman said softly, the ethereal resonance of her voice instantaneously soothing Tara. They came to a stop by an empty table and the woman gallantly pulled back a chair for Tara. "Please. Sit."_

_Tara sat, dark eyes tuning out everything but the mysterious woman in front of her. _

"_My name is Cassandra," the woman revealed, taking a seat opposite the dark-skinned vampire. "I'm the owner of this establishment."_

"_Tara," she immediately replied, her Southern upbringing still firmly ingrained in her even after a century of vampirism. _

"_Hello, Tara. I'm delighted to make your acquaintance." Cassandra's voice was genuine as she reached for Tara's hand, lifting it to her lips only to whisper a kiss across ebony-hued knuckles. _

_Tara didn't quite know what to make of Cassandra, or how to respond to her gentlemanly acts. So, she busied herself by looking at her surroundings._

_The bar area was tastefully decorated. Victorian influences were embellished in the furniture, the walls a dark, dusky, blue and fringed with clean lines of silver. An island bar of deep mahogany was stationed in the middle of the room, chair and table sets scattered evenly around it. On the fringes of the room, private alcoves abounded, heavy drapes of a deep red were either tied by back thick ropes of gold or drawn across indicating occupation. Lights of a dim golden-yellow dotted the ceiling, dark enough for privacy but bright enough for basic visibility._

_The design of the bar made for a deeply intimate atmosphere, intimate and sensual. There was also an erotic undertone, brought on by waiters and waitresses that were dressed in lace, corsets, waistcoats, suspenders, tight skirts and pants and subtly dramatic makeup._

"_Nice place," Tara murmured as she slipped her hand out of Cassandra's cool, smooth grasp only to wring it nervously with her other. _

"_There's no reason to be nervous, Tara." Cassandra's voice was disquietingly lyrical, almost musical in its quality. "You don't have to be afraid. Not here." _

_But Tara __**was**__ afraid. Afraid, conflicted, confused and uncertain. And underneath that, she was still nursing the broken pieces of her heart. The unintentional reminder of what she had lost, what she had come halfway around the world to forget, hit her hard and blood-tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She stood abruptly, her chair screeching at the abrupt movement and causing several heads to turn their way. _

_Tara ignored the eyes on her. "I'm sorry," she apologized, her voice thick with tears. "I…I shouldn't be here. This…it's not…I don't know why I came."_

_The dark-skinned vampire turned on her heel and took all but two steps when Cassandra called out to her. "Yes," she said, her voice no louder than a whisper, knowing that Tara would have no problems hearing her. "Yes, you do."_

_And with those words, Cassandra was suddenly in front of Tara. She reached up and cupped the dark-skinned vampire's cheek in her hand, her thumb swiping away the lone drop of crimson clinging to her dusky eyelashes. "You're here because you hurt, because you don't want to remember." Long fingers whispered across a smooth ebony cheek, her eyes now a dark purple as they stared intently into Tara's orbs of pitch. "People come here to forget, Tara. You want to forget, don't you?" Lightly tanned fingers traced the line of Tara's jaw. "You want to bathe in Lethe's rivers, anoint yourself with blissful ignorance." A thumb landed on Tara's lower lip, pressing down gently before tracing its fullness. "You want an escape from your own personal hell, from the storm I know is raging inside of you." Cassandra's eyes were suddenly an iridescent shade of amethyst as they locked onto Tara's face. "I can give you that freedom. I can offer you salvation." The owner of _Silver's Kiss_ leaned in until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. "All you have to do –" she murmured throatily. "–is say, 'yes'."_

_Tara, so overwhelmed by pain and loss, so crippled by the emptiness in her chest where the maker/progeny bond once hummed, saw only one way out of her misery. She was in the middle of an endless, raging ocean with no means of escape, no direction she could take that wouldn't drown her in sorrow and tears. _

_And Cassandra was the only life vest within reach. _

_Tara closed the distance between them, brushing her lips against Cassandra's, a fleeting press of lips against lips. Then she stepped back, her dark orbs never leaving shimmering pools of violet. _

"_Yes."_

xxxxxxxx

The sound of something solid crashing through the window, snapped Tara out of her reverie. Pearly white fangs elongated and Tara was off the bed and standing in front of Pam on the other side of the bed before she realized what had caused the crash:

Pam.

The blonde had thrown her cylinder of blood hot chocolate through the windowpane.

Tara's dark eyes went from the sizeable jagged hole in the window to her maker who was still sitting cross legged on the bed, her face still as marbled stone even as cold, blue eyes rested on Tara's face.

Tara retracted her fangs, though her body remained tense and coiled. "Temper tantrums are beyond you, Pamela," she stated coolly as she rounded the bed, intending to return to her dinner. She was halfway to her destination when Pam flew off the mattress and vamp sped up to Tara, knocking her sideways and onto the floor.

Maker and progeny fell, Pam on top of Tara whose fangs once again dropped though to the younger vampire's credit, she remained plaint and submissive beneath the blonde.

"Jealous much?" Tara couldn't help but jibe, her eyes cold, her expression unrepentant as she met Pam's incensed look without so much as a flinch.

"You let her take _silver_ to you," Pam hissed, spitting the word, "silver" out like it was the most derogatory of terms. Pale fingers closed around an ebony throat, squeezing just hard enough to mean business. "Didn't you?" No response. "Didn't you?!"

Tara's silence was her answer.

"Why the _fuck_ would you do something so _stupid_?!" Pam fought against blinding rage, such toxic anger that compelled her to raise her hand and smack the empty, impassive look off Tara's face. Her turmoil was visible, every muscle in her body rigid as she held Tara to the ground. Her was twisted in a mixture of pain and rage, her eyes glowing like blue coals.

Tara's face showed not one ounce of remorse, her eyes twin pits of black and her expression blank. She stared up at her maker, looked dead on into enraged eyes of flaming sapphire blue.

"To forget you."

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N** – Thank you to all who took the time to leave feedback. Your support means a lot. Now, there's some mention of heavy stuff in this chapter so just to be safe, I'm tagging a **TRIGGER WARNING** to this update. FYI.

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**Chapter 16**

_The air was thick with the smell of blood and sex._

_Tara was almost drunk on it, her pupils dilated from the intoxicating miasma of arousal and blood and her underwear embarrassingly damp with moisture. She resisted another greedy gulp of the sweetly poisonous bouquet, knowing that another whiff would send her tailspinning into the arms of Silver's Kiss' owner._

_Because despite the broken shards of her heart that were tearing ragged holes in her slowly darkening soul, despite the allure of revenge that whispered temptation across her senses and despite the pain that hounded her every waking moment, the thought of betraying Pam by sleeping with Cassandra sent a thunderbolt of shame and guilt to sizzle at nerves that were still far too raw._

_Fact was, it was simply too soon. Too soon to be that intimate with someone. Too soon to allow someone who was not her maker the privilege of touching her, caressing her, kissing her._

_Tara was reminded of the brief kiss she shared with Cassandra upstairs in the bar. Guilt flooded her immediately, momentarily masking the never ending nudge of pain that had permanently set up shop in her veins. She paused mid-step and closed her eyes, trying to stave off blood tears that seemed hell-bent on making an appearance and drizzling her cheeks with meandering streaks of crimson._

_A soft hand alighted on her cheek, the touch feather-light. It was accompanied by the smell of cinnamon and spice, something that Tara was beginning to associated with Cassandra. Her eyes squeezed further shut._

"_You have so much sorrow inside of you." Cassandra's voice was a low burr, deliberately soft and soothing in an attempt to smooth over the tidal wave of hurt and heartache coursing through Tara's lithe frame. "It lingers over you like a dark cloud, covers you like a persistent shadow. How can you stand it?"_

"_It's the only thing I have left of her." Tara's voice was husky with tears, hoarse with pain and choked with agony. She suppressed a gut-wrenching sob, her body physically, visibly shaking as she refused to let her throat release that tormented cry._

_Long, elegant fingers played over an ebony-hued cheek and despite herself, Tara gave into the comfort Cassandra was so willingly offering. She leaned into the touch, her lower lip trembling violently. _

_Cassandra ran the pads of her fingers over Tara's beautifully structured cheekbone. One thumb reached up, gathered the one perfect teardrop of blood that manifested at the corner of Tara's eye then brought the droplet of blood to her lips. A pink tongue flicked out, lifting the blood into her mouth._

"_You taste like her." _

_At those words, Tara's eyes snapped open, revealing twin pools of anguish. She looked up at Cassandra, her face twisted with immeasurable sadness._

_Cassandra returned her hand to Tara's face, gently running her knuckles down the dark-skinned vampire's cheek. "You smell like fine whisky and tobacco, with a hint of caramel," she described softly. "But you taste like lavender and honeysuckle." A pause. "With the barest trace of vanilla," she finished as an afterthought. _

_This time Tara was unable to hold back the sob; it burst unrepentant from full lips, jarring her eardrums and causing her knees to buckle. She fell into Cassandra's immediately outstretched arms, allowing her to wrap her in a soft embrace. _

_The smell of cinnamon and spice curled around her like a seductive perfume. Cassandra's hair smelled like cloves. The combination of these aromas sent Tara's mind reeling and she inhaled hungrily, desperately, wanting, needing to erase the blueprint of Pam's scent from herself._

_Tara allowed Cassandra to hold her for long moments; she had almost forgotten what it was like to be held with such tenderness and care, to be held like a priceless treasure. Cassandra's arms were soft yet strong as they twined around her heaving body. Her unique scent seeped into her pores, calming the storm within. The taller vampire's voice was a low, soothing murmur in her ear, a litany of reassurances slowly dulling the persistent ache in her heart._

"_I want to forget," Tara breathed out when she felt herself strong enough to emerge from the safe cocoon of Cassandra's arms. She trained an obsidian gaze onto the other vampire, her eyes blank with desperation. "Make me forget," she pleaded as fresh blood tears brimmed in her eyes._

_Cassandra's eyes bore just a hint of sadness before she acquiesced with another caress of Tara's cheek and a nod. She held out a hand, waited until Tara took it then spoke. _

"_Come with me."_

_xxxxxxxx_

_Tara was ensconced on a stool, hands tied behind her to a spreader bar. Thick coils of rope, shot through with thin slivers of silver, curled around the dark-skinned vampire's wrists. It bit thin lines of scarlet into the ebony skin but was not potent enough to do heavy damage for its fundamental purpose was to restrain._

"_Continental silver," Cassandra introduced coming up behind Tara. She reached down, tracing a section of the rope wrapped around Tara's writs with a lone finger. Again, Tara noticed that the older vampire seemed immune to the precious metal that bit and burned the rest of their kind. "80% pure." She rounded the chair and came to a stop in front of the bound vampire. "Does it hurt?"_

"_It stings," Tara admitted quietly. She learned quick that any movement of her wrists would only serve to agitate the thin red lines the slivers of silver in the rope drew into her skin. So she remained plaint and motionless in her currently bound position. A position and situation she still wasn't sure she should be in. Memories of being bound and gagged as a human by a vampire whose name she refused to let surface flashed before her eyes._

_Tara's entire lithe frame flinched, muscles going rigid, her throat closing up._

_Cassandra sensed her hesitation, her doubt, could almost taste Tara's abject fear on the tip of her tongue. "You consented to this, Tara," she reminded the bound vampire softly. "You signed the contract. In blood." She bent until they were at eye-level with each other. "But you also know that you hold the power here." A soothing hand cupped Tara's cheek, the touch helping her to dispel unwanted memories. _

_Tara focused hard on the feel of Cassandra's soft palm against her cheek, concentrated until her mind was blissfully emptied of memories._

"_Your utterance of the safe word will immediately cease any and all activities I may engage with you," Cassandra continued, her voice so soothing it was almost a lullaby. She tracked long fingers down the line of Tara's jaw then dragged her thumb along Tara's full bottom lip, lingering long enough to make Tara's gums ache as she fought to keep her fangs retracted. "What's the safe word, Tara?"_

_Tara's brows furrowed, Cassandra's close proximity to her currently openly vulnerable body and the scent of cinnamon and spice wracking havoc with her hormones. She opened her mouth to speak but her throat refused to co-operate. _

_Cassandra pressed on, undaunted by Tara's sudden muteness. She trailed those elegantly long fingers down the column of Tara's neck, over the collar of her shirt. Reaching the buttons, Cassandra fingered the top button of Tara's shirt, teasing it gently out of its nook and exposing a delicious sliver of dark flesh. "What is the safe word, Tara Mae?" Nimble fingers popped the second button, then the third. When Tara still failed to respond, Cassandra reached passed Tara's half opened shirt and dragged the tip of her nail down the line of the dark-skinned vampire's cleavage. She stopped when she met the barrier of Tara's simple black sports bar and violet eyes sought of chips of onyx. "I need you to say the safe word, Tara," she murmured enticingly, changing the register of her tone to the channel of seduction. _

"_Sunlight," Tara finally gasped as Cassandra dipped a teasing finger into her bra. She then flinched when Cassandra reached out and yanked opened the rest of her shirt, sending buttons to go pinging onto the floor. _

"_Good girl." Straightening, Cassandra made her way to a wall lined with riding crops and whips. All were tipped or shot through with silver, though they were stacked according to what type of silver they were adorned with. The owner of Silver's Kiss was contemplative as she surveyed the array of items before her. Violet eyes kept returning to a leather cat-o-nine tails whip as she perused the range of equipment but she ignored the way the cat-o-nine called to her like a siren's song._

_It was only when Cassandra paused to glance over her shoulder at Tara that her now slightly darkened lavender eyes landed on grief-laden obsidian ones. Tara's heartache was like another person in the room, it was so corporeal. Cassandra turned back to the array of whips and riding crops, made a show of considering a few before she returned to standing in front of the cat-o-nine tails. She paused for mere seconds and there was a slight hesitation in her statuesque body before long fingers reached for its handle._

_Tara's eyes couldn't help but widen as Cassandra sauntered back towards her holding the cat-o-nine. True to its name, the whip bore nine "tails", each one tipped with silver and gleaming off the dim overhead lights. In spite of herself, Tara felt a keen frisson of panic and fear as Cassandra neared. Her body betrayed her by arching away as Cassandra came to a stop next to her. _

"_Do not be afraid." Cassandra was using that voice, the one that simultaneously comforting and seductive and as it washed over Tara, it began to work its magic. Like a slow creep of venom through her veins, it paralyzed her, lured her into a false sense of security. _

"_Pain can be sublime, Tara," Cassandra continued in that same seductive rasp. She ran an admiring hand down the length of the whip she held in her other hand then gauged the weight and feel of it with an expert lift and grip. "It can be the most potent of narcotics, the most addictive of drugs." She reached out with her unburdened hand and helped Tara to her feet then coaxed her into a kneeling position, her hands still restrained behind her. "Pain can heal, destroy, make one strong. It can be all encompassing, rushing through your veins like a fatal toxin, singeing nerves and atrophying muscles." _

_She moved to stand behind Tara and confident that Tara wouldn't move from her new position by her feet, Cassandra pulled a thin silver blade from the sheath hanging from her belt. She pressed the tip of it on the collar of Tara's shirt, allowed the kneeling vampire to acknowledge what she was about to do then began dragging the dagger down. It was honed to such sharpness that it sliced through Tara's shirt with little resistance. Tara hissed when the tip of the dagger kiss her skin, sending explosions of brief but acute pain to blossom down the line of her spine._

"_But pain can also be a gift. If you let yourself go, let yourself surrender –" Cassandra reached the tail of Tara's shirt, paused then gently pressed the flat of the blade against the small of Tara's back. Tara cried out, fangs distending with a subtle click. Her body writhed but she didn't try to shy away from the painful press of silver against her exposed skin. "–pain can be exquisite." She lifted the blade, watched as burned ebony skin began knitting itself back to flawless smoothness. "You can immerse yourself in pain's sweet breath, Tara, let it love every blessed, precious inch of your beautiful body with its velvet touch." She began ridding Tara of the ruined pieces of her shirt, pausing only to tuck the dagger back into its sheath. "Pain can be the greatest stimulus. Every touch, every fleeting caress, every brush of lips against skin, fingers against the most intimate part of you–" Cassandra let the shreds of material that once made up Tara's shirt hang by her bound wrists. "–all of these acts, are acts of pain."_

_The owner of Silver's Kiss bent and placed a series of strategic kisses down Tara's exposed back. Then she straightened and settled the cat-o-nine tails more firmly against her palm. "You are beautiful, Tara," Cassandra praised quietly. "It would be a waste to watch you lose that beauty. Let me give you the oblivion you crave."_

"_Yes," Tara answered, her voice husky with anticipation, hope and arousal. She folded her legs beneath her and bent over slightly. Her kneeling position, combined with her bound hands made for the perfect picture of submission. "Make me forget."_

_Cassandra nodded, even though Tara was faced away from her. She lifted the cat-o-nine. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice a low rasp._

_Tara sucked in a breath, stared at the dark abyss she was about to leap into from the precipice of a sheer cliff. Then she replied, "Yes."_

_And jumped._

xxxxxxxx

"I don't want to hear anymore."

Pam's voice, so broken and vulnerable and skewered with pain, pulled Tara out of her musings. She glanced down at the blonde head tucked against her shoulder. Somehow, in the course of Tara's latest recollection, Pam's body had retreated from its aggressive position of holding Tara down by the throat to molding itself against Tara's reclining one. The dramatic change in posture and intention had been an unconscious gesture, muscle memories activating in wake of the close proximity of their bodies. And though beneath Pam's plaint body Tara was still slightly tense, one ebony-hued hand had found its way to the mop of golden-blonde hair tucked beneath her chin. The hand was now resting on Pam's shoulder, a lock of flaxen hair coiled possessively around a lone finger.

Apparently old habits did die hard.

"Why?" Curiosity laced Tara's voice, decorated with a barely-there strand of disappointment. "You were the one who wanted me to spill my whole sad story." Her voice grew defiant with each word, her tone rising as anger swelled within her. "You were the one who insisted on playing "shrink and patient." You–"

Pam cut Tara off by lifting her head, the act shaking loose Tara's hold on that precious lock of flaxen hair. Blue eyes were incandescent with heartache, the expression on the blonde's face stricken. "If you ever loved me at all–" Her voice was a symphony of pain, jarring the still broken pieces of Tara's heart. "–you won't say anymore...tonight." The blonde had reached her saturation limit; hearing about her child willingly subjecting herself to silver was almost more than she could take.

With the utterance of that passionate plea, Pam sat up, prompting Tara to do the same. The former moved to lean against the side of the bed, knees pulled up to her chest. Tara stayed where she was, crossing her legs and dropping her hands to her lap. It was the most subdued Pam had ever seen Tara in the last few weeks, the position neither defensive nor antagonistic.

The pair didn't speak for long minutes, simply choosing to sit on the floor, allowing a blanket of silence to wrap around them. They didn't look at each other and they didn't move.

"When have I never not loved you?" It was Tara who finally emerged from silence's grasp, speaking with a quietness and a softness that Pam had not been privy to since the beginning of Tara's arrival.

The resigned, almost defeated tone of her progeny's voice prompted Pam to look up. Tara wasn't looking at her though, choosing instead to let her head remained bowed, her hair falling about her face in a curtain of midnight silk.

"Even before I was turned, even when you were hell-bent on killing me, there was always…always something about you." Tara's voice was barely audible now, garbled by distance, memories long passed and a quiet, steely anguish. "Then you made me a vampire, turned my world upside down and spent every waking night making my life a living hell. And yet I stayed." Tara finally lifted her head, lifted it so slowly that Pam thought that the anticipation she felt lancing through her might just be the end of her undead life. When her progeny finally locked those eyes of obsidian onto her, Pam couldn't help but shudder. There was such pain, such indescribable pain and suffering in those eyes that it was palpable, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

"I stayed because I didn't know how to go, because I knew that my place was at your side." A bitter laugh sounded from Tara's full lips and Pam flinched despite herself. "And then, that first kiss and the way the bo…"

Another harsh laugh started in Tara's throat but before it could fully develop, heartbreaking emotions transformed it into a sob. It shot forth past Tara's tongue like a rocket, exploding into the air like fireworks.

Pam was immediately in front of Tara, kneeling before the tormented vampire. A pale hand reached out, alighting on an ebony cheek with aching tenderness. Tara recoiled in an almost violent fashion, arching away from the touch but Pam persisted, following Tara by leaning forward when Tara leaned back.

"I would give anything, _anything_ to have the bond back." Pam slid her hand down slightly until she was partially cupping Tara's jaw. She forced Tara's chin upwards, forced pained obsidian eyes to lock onto equally broken pools of sapphire. "I would give up Eric, the world, my _life_ just to be able to feel you beating inside of me one more time." Tears bloodied the rims of her eyes. "You were _everything_. You still are."

"I'm broken." Tara vamp sped to her feet then blurred to stand by the open window. She greedily sucked in a mouthful of cold, crisp night air, needing to dispel the lingering scent of lavender and honeysuckle from her senses.

"Even broken things can be fixed." Pam didn't want to push Tara so she moved to sit on the bed. She propped herself on the edge of the mattress, staring introspectively at Tara.

"And make you bleed while you're trying to handle the broken pieces," Tara countered, flatness returning to her Southern lilt. "Sometimes, it's best to leave well enough alone."

"I won't accept that."

Tara scoffed. Twin orbs of pitch traced a pattern out of the small smattering of stars that dotted the midnight blue sky like twinkling diamonds as she allowed silence to come to play once more.

"Tara?"

Tara hesitated but the compulsion to look at Pam, mingled with the quiet, steady timbre of the blonde's voice won out and she angled her head in the blonde's direction.

Pam's throat worked as she swallowed, the unreadable look in Tara's eyes too disquieting for the blonde. She manage a few more seconds of eye contact before she shook her head and lowered her own anguished blue gaze, pale hands picking at the blanket by her side.

Tara's brow furrowed. It was clear that Pam wanted to say something, _anything_ even. Watching her maker second guess herself, doubt the words that she wanted to let loose from her throat was equally as odd. The dark-skinned vampire released a heavy sigh, realizing not for the first time, just how different everything was. She was different. Pam was different. _They_ were different.

Different. And broken.

Tara returned her dark gaze to the world beyond the window, her expression growing distant as memories began to overwhelm her again.

Behind her, Pam simply sat and stared into her lap, wondering how they had managed to get so far off the beaten track, so far from what they knew about each other.

**TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N** – Happy Lunar New Year to those who celebrate. Hope the year brings in prosperity, luck and joy.

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**Chapter 17**

"You're hurting me!"

Tara responded by slamming the girl up against a dirty brick wall and grabbing a fistful of blonde hair. She used her grip to yank the girl's head so viciously sideways that she almost gave her meal whiplash.

Tara took a moment to stare at her meal's exposed neck. Pale. Delicate. Vulnerable. The jugular vein throbbed almost obscenely, the vein undulating with blood that was infused with an intoxicating cocktail of terror and adrenaline.

The sight made Tara's gums ache and she unashamedly allowed her fangs to slide from their respective sheaths. The subtle click of fangs dropping were the blonde girl's only indicator that she was about to become Tara's next meal before the dark-skinned vampire bore down on her exposed throat, fangs first.

The girl screamed, the sound a loud aria of fear and pain as Tara's sharp incisors sliced through her alabaster flesh like a knife through soft butter. She screamed again, a shrill cry of abject terror as Tara bit deeper, further opening and aggravating the puncture wounds she had already made.

Blood.

Rich. Succulent. Warm.

It starburst onto Tara's tongue and flooded her mouth, coating the back of her throat and her fangs as it burst in glorious crimson torrents from the wounds on the girl's neck. Tara moaned, an ardent, almost relieved sound as she swallowed greedy mouthfuls of the life-giving liquid.

The girl beneath Tara's steely, unmovable grip gasped and attempted a weak push at Tara's shoulders as the dark-skinned vampire began sucking in earnest, taking long pulls of blood into her mouth whilst simultaneously leeching her meal of strength.

As Tara drank from her less than willing victim, euphoria and power rushed through her veins like opium smoke, sending her into a state of bliss that vampires could only achieve through feeding. Already, Tara could feel the warm blood igniting her nerves and kindling a fire between her legs and eager for more of that ambrosial taste and feel of life rushing out of her meal and into her, she suckled harder.

Tara's meal whimpered when the vampire retracted her fangs none too gently from her pale neck. When Tara began laving her tongue against the puncture wounds her fangs had made, the blonde couldn't stop the moan that escaped unbidden from her throat. Surprise painted itself across the blonde's face as Tara began pressing butterfly kisses down the column of her throat, the vampire's tepid tongue leaving a wet trail after each strategically placed kiss. Despite herself, the blonde went slack in the vampire's grip, her submission and acceptance of being this vampire's meal adding to Tara's already over-fueled power trip.

"Good girl," Tara praised, her voice a low, rough purr as she felt resistance bleed out of her meal like water through a sieve. She pressed a deliberate kiss over an erratically pounding pulse then coaxed a wanton moan out of the blonde by dragging her tongue up a pale throat to under a pale ear. "Don't fight me." Tara's voice was like silk encased steel, her Southern lilt contradicting itself as it managed to sound both painfully seductive and frighteningly threatening. "You won't win."

In a great show of faith, or perhaps Tara was simply feeling cocky, she loosened her hold on the blonde, took two steps away then waited.

When her victim didn't so much as arch away from the dark-skinned vampire, Tara smirked in triumph, stepped back into the blonde's personal space then pressed the front of her body flush against her meal's. She ducked her head, returning her attentions to the girl's neck. Dragging her needle sharp incisors down the length of the girl's neck, Tara managed to cause within the girl's body, a series of tremors along with desire-filled whimpers and moans. When she sank her fangs back into the girl's neck without preamble, the girl produced a sound that settled somewhere in between a pained gasp and a guttural mewl of lust.

Tara knew she had the girl in her thrall when her meal further slanted her head sideways, exposing her neck like a sacrificial offering. Tara gave the girl what she wanted, biting down harder and taking long, deliberate pulls of fresh, warm blood. In the twin rivulets of scarlet, she could taste from the girl, a lingering fear that was cleverly masked by a growing arousal. Pain bordered these feelings but it was a feeling that added to the girl's heightening sense of pleasure and Tara knew this by the way the girl was starting to rub against her thigh like a cat in heat.

Tara drank heartily, allowing the girl her little bit of heaven by trying to rid herself of the growing ache Tara's fangs was creating between her legs. She didn't stop the way the girl was now grinding the lower half of her body against Tara's but neither did she encourage it.

When Tara finally had her fill, the girl didn't have the strength to tend to her desire anymore, so lacking she was of blood and strength. She slid bonelessly to the cobblestoned ground when Tara released her, her legs the consistency of Jell-O and she remained in a crumpled heap by Tara's boots when the dark-skinned vampire didn't even attempt to help her into a sitting position.

"I'm surprised you didn't drain her."

Tara whirled around, so drunk on her power trip and so full of fresh blood that she had neglected to take stock of her surroundings. Obsidian eyes locked onto Pam as the blonde stepped forth from the shadows, her blonde hair blowing gently behind her in carefree waves. Prussian blue eyes met Tara's orbs of pitch and for a moment the meeting of blue and black suspended time itself as their respective owners simply looked at each other.

"You followed me." It wasn't a question.

Pam confirmed this with a nod as she leaned against the brick wall. A cold gust of wind whipped back her dark leather duster, revealing the blonde's simple garments of form hugging jeans and a deep green V-neck sweater.

"Why?" Curiosity buried under false nonchalance.

"Because I woke up and you were gone." Brutal honesty in every word. Pam knew they hit home when Tara's eyes darkened with guilt.

Tara turned and walked out of the street onto the main walkway that sat parallel to the River Thames. She stopped by the railings and simply stared out into the mass of dark, heavily polluted water.

Pam watched from under the shadows of the street as Tara tilted her head up, greeting the blast of frigid cold air that accompanied London during this time of the year. The sight was arresting: standing under a midnight sky of dotted silver stars with the moonlight illuminating half her face, Tara looked every bit the fallen angel she was. She was so beautiful, with her haunted eyes of endless black and the tortured expression distorting the strong features of her face that it almost hurt to look at her.

When Tara finally turned her head in Pam's direction, the blonde swore that if her heart still beat, it would have stopped in her chest then lodged itself in her throat. The pained look in the Tara's eye, the way her lips were just slightly parted and the way the wind coaxed strands of sable hair into dancing on an invisible platform in the air…it wasn't hard to see why Pam was and always would be enthralled by the creature standing before her. Falling in love with Tara was inevitably. Pam had no say in it. Falling in love with Tara was like the sun rising in the east, the moon waxing and waning, the stars shining like priceless diamonds in a midnight blue sky.

Falling in love with Tara just was. It didn't need an explanation, didn't warrant one. It just was.

"Why did you come to London?" Pain, so much unresolved pain in Tara's voice, decorated with a myriad of other soul-slicing emotions that the dark-skinned vampire couldn't even begin to address.

The question was unexpected and Pam started a little as Tara's soft alto drifted on the airwaves in her direction. She swallowed, knowing that sooner or later she would have to give her version of fifty years apart. She just didn't realize that it was going to be tonight.

"Pamela?" A note of vulnerability accompanied the blonde's name but Tara's gaze was steadfast and patient as they collided with endless pools of sapphire. Those eyes of obsidian didn't push, didn't challenge but neither did they back down.

Pam sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. Blue eyes slipped shut, cutting off the connection they were making with Tara's onyx orbs as she allowed herself to journey back to that fateful night where she sealed her own fate, had it etched permanently in stone.

xxxxxxxx

"_Why London?"_

_Eric's voice was unnervingly calm. Too calm. Stiller than a lake on a breeze-less summer's day. This only meant that a tempestuous storm lurked beneath the cool exterior the blonde Viking was currently wearing like a shield of armor. _

"_I can't stay here, Eric." Pam's voice was like a thousand blades of pain, each one honing in on Eric's nerves with sniper-like precision and mutilating them beyond recognition. He was proud that his responding flinch went unnoticed by his progeny. _

"_Come home with me," Eric pleaded yet again, his calm demeanor cracking under the force of his anxiety. He stepped forward, forced Pam to stop packing and turned her to face him. "Come with me," he enticed, not wanting to sound desperate, sound like he was begging but at this point, Eric would have dropped to his knees before Pam and clutched at her legs like a child would their mother if the act would get the blonde to acquiesce to his wishes. _

"_I can't stay __**here**__, Eric." Pam emphasized on the word "here", hoping that that would be enough of an explanation. When Eric's sea blue-green eyes clouded over in confusion, she knew she had to elaborate. "It's not just this house. It's __**here**__." She gestured to the world that lay beyond the bedroom window. "Everywhere I go, everywhere I look, everything and __**everyone**__ I hear, I'm reminded of her." It was a painful admission, evident by the way Pam's voice choked in her throat and blood filled her eyes. "I just…I…I can't be here anymore." A crimson tear escaped and streaked down her pale cheek in a bold line of scarlet. "Please understand."_

_Eric clenched his jaw, dropping his hands from Pam's shoulders and turning his back on her. He shut his eyes, hoping that the act would drive away the onslaught of tears that he could feel building in his eyes and burning the back of his throat. He stiffened when he felt Pam curl long, supple fingers around his arm but didn't have the heart to shake her off. After all, this might be the last time he would get to be in child's presence. To see her, touch her, hold her. _

_Giving into the need for tactile contact, Eric turned and crushed Pam to him, his embrace brutal, bruising, anguished. "You're breaking my heart," he whispered harshly, angrily into a mop of thick golden-blonde hair. He pressed his lips to the crown of Pam's head, inhaling her scent, willing the bouquet of honeysuckle and lavender to fused into his blood cells, his pores. _

"_I'm sorry," Pam whispered, her voice broken. She clutched at Eric's back, fingers digging into his linen shirt as she buried her face into his strong chest. "I'm so sorry."_

_Eric swallowed. Hard. Wanting, __**needing**__ to savor this moment of having his child in his arms, he dropped all his defenses, lowered every wall he had ever erected inside of him and simply allowed himself to feel, to hold Pam._

_Maker and progeny stood like this for what seemed like forever. Neither was willing was to let go, neither willing to be the first to break loose this all too heartbreaking embrace. _

_It was Eric who finally found some hidden kernel of strength deep inside him to pull back slightly. Both their faces mirrored the other as crimson streaks painted their cheeks and dotted their eyelashes. _

_Eric cupped Pam's head in his hands, cradling her cheeks with a tenderness and care that only his progeny and Sookie ever saw. "_Moder, dotter, syster_," he intoned, his voice breaking under the pressure of his sadness. Two fresh trails of blood anointed his cheeks and his lower lip trembled as Pam leaned almost desperately into his touch._

"Fader, son, brode_r," Pam replied in kind, her voice choked with tears. She reached up and covered Eric's hands with hers. "Always," she swore fiercely. _

_Eric nodded and bent down to press his forehead against Pam's. He was crying freely now, his tall body shaking with sobs that he didn't have the strength to voice aloud. He trembled almost violently against Pam as he committed the feel of her soft skin against his callused palms to memory._

_Pam didn't know, didn't care how long she stood in the middle of her bedroom with Eric holding onto her and her to Eric but when it was excruciatingly evident that Eric would not be the first to let go, she reached up and brushed the back of her knuckles down his blood-stained cheek. "Let me go," she whispered, her voice haunted with pain, sadness, anguish and defeat. "Let me go," she repeated softly, quietly, brokenly._

_When Eric felt Pam's hand in his hair, stroking and soothing like a mother would to console a child, the Viking almost broke there and then. Instead, he nodded, never able to deny his child anything. In this he was weak but Pam was his only progeny, his one legacy. _

_Sometimes when you loved someone, you had to let them go. _

_And that's what Eric did. He let Pam go. If he thought letting Godric meet the sun was hard, he was wrong. If he thought acquiescing to Sookie's wishes to remain mortal was hard, he was wrong. This, letting his child go, letting her lick her wounds, run away, hide from the world, this was the hardest, most painful thing Eric would go through in his well over a thousand year existence. _

_Eric opened sea blue-green eyes that were shot through with grief. His sorrow was reflected in Pam's cerulean blue eyes and despite himself, Eric couldn't help but beg one last time. _

"_Please, Pamela." His deep alto was awash with pain. "__**Please**__."_

_Pam shook her head, sending droplets of scarlet to skitter off her eyelashes. "Let me go."_

_Eric nearly tore a hole through the inside of his cheek as he bit down to refrain from saying anymore. He looked at Pam, really __**looked**__ and tried to capture every detail. From the way her hair fell in silky cascades over her shoulder, to the line of gray fringing her electric blue eyes to the trembling of her full lower lip. _

_The tall Viking tucked two fingers under Pam's cheek and leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. There was nothing erotic about the kiss; it was simply an act of comfort, a gesture of goodbye, a communication of all the love he felt for this broken creature in front of him._

"_Be safe," Eric said, his voice soft, defeated. He let his palm linger on the softness and smoothness of Pam's cheek, allowed himself to drown in her pain-laden blue gaze one last time. _

_Then he turned and walked out of his child's life. _

xxxxxxxx

"You broke his heart." Tara's voice was non-judgmental as if drifted over to where Pam stood, half-concealed by shadow. She now fully understood Eric's desperation and overwhelming pain when he hunted her down in that bar. Pam didn't just break his heart; she shattered it.

"And I broke yours." Pam allowed herself to indulge in a bitter laugh. "Aren't we the poster family for dysfunctional."

Tara ignored the line of sarcasm. "That still doesn't answer my question." It was fast becoming habit again, for her eyes to search and linger on Pam's. She wasn't disappointed when the blonde turned a turbulent pewter blue gaze onto her own dark orbs. "Why London, Pamela?" she asked, voicing aloud a question that had slowly but insistently been gnawing at her since her arrival at this godforsaken city. "You always swore you would never come back here," she reminded the blonde.

Pam swallowed and forced herself to remain looking into Tara's eyes. Long moments passed before Pam could muster up the courage to speak. "I had hoped the wretched memories attached to this place would overwhelm the ones I had of you."

Tara immediately dropped her gaze, Pam's confession feeling like a sucker punch to the gut. "You should have stayed with him," she murmured, speaking not to Pam but to the gently rolling river. "He's your maker. He loves you."

"He doesn't have my heart. You do." Pam stepped out from the safety and comfort of the shadows, wanting to be closer to Tara but also needing to stand out into the open for what she needed to say next. "I want _you_, Tara. Only you."

Tara's eyes screwed shut, Pam's bold declaration akin to silver being poured down her veins. "You don't want me. I'm…"

"Broken," Pam finished quietly. "I don't care." She took another bold step forward, uncaring of how Tara took one back, keeping a sizeable distance between them. "I want _you_; every broken, damaged, irreparable part of you. All or nothing, Tara." She willed the dark-skinned vampire to look at her, was rewarded when Tara settled a haunted dark gaze on her. "Remember?"

Tara said nothing, her voice non-existent in her throat. She just stared at Pam, fingers clenching, her face a picture of torment.

_Ever worried that it might be ruined?  
__And does it make you want to cry?  
__When you're out there doing what you're doing_

"I want you as my lover, my friend, my confidante, my protector." Pam's voice was as confident as Tara had ever heard it. There was no hesitancy, no doubt, just firm, resolute determination. "And I want to be yours." Pam was tired of going back and forth, tired of talking, tired of walking on eggshells. She wanted it all. All or nothing.

_Are you just getting by?  
__Tell me are you just getting by__?_

And so, standing out in the middle of London, under a star-studded sky, Pam put all her cards on the table. "I'm asking to be your everything." Eyes of the purest, deepest blue locked onto Tara, paralyzing her to the spot. "I don't care about the past. I don't care how broken or damaged or fucked up you think you are. I. Don't. Care." Pam took the final, crucial steps forward, closing the gap between their bodies. She reached out and cupped Tara's cheek in her hand. "Just…just be with me," she rasped, her voice husky with tears. "Can you do that? Can you just _be_ with me?"

_Where there is desire  
__There is gonna be a flame  
__Where there is a flame  
__Someone's gonna get burned_

Tara couldn't speak, couldn't make her throat move to produce the vibrations that would manifest into audible words. She stared at Pam, looked into blue eyes that were more naked, open and honest than she had ever had the privilege of seeing.

_But just because it burns  
__Doesn't mean you're gonna die  
__You gotta get up and  
__Try, try, try_

"There's still so much I want to say to you." Pam was undaunted by Tara's silence, knowing that this ultimatum she was hanging over their heads was almost more than either of them could take. But time was running out for them and if Pam didn't get some semblance of a response from Tara tonight, then it was all going to be over. "So much I want _you_ to say to me. But, for now, I'll settle for, 'yes' or 'no'."

Every defense Pam had housed in her body, mind and soul was down; ever wall, every barrier, every shield. She was emotionally, mentally naked and vulnerable before the only person who had the power to make or break her every hope, wish, desire and dream.

"I've spent fifty years without you, Tara. Every night more painful than the last. Not knowing where you were, if you were even alive. I don't want eternity without you but I'll go on if I have to."

Gauntlet thrown, Pam dropped her hand from Tara's cheek and stepped back. She looked at Tara, who looked back, her entire face frozen into an expression Pam couldn't even begin to decipher for there were just too many emotions reflecting off those obsidian orbs and running rampant across her face.

"Be with me," Pam offered plainly, her voice quiet. "Love me. _Stay_."

Tara didn't speak, didn't know how. The power of speech had abandoned her on this clear, cold London night and she was left standing before Pam, speechless, powerless and unable to do anything but stare.

_Where there is desire  
__There is gonna be a flame  
__Where there is a flame  
__Someone's gonna get burne__d_

Five full minutes of ear-shattering silence and still Tara did not speak, did not move, did not so much as blink.

Pam nodded. A nod of acceptance. She didn't cry, didn't beg, didn't crumble.

_But just because it burns  
__Doesn't mean you're gonna die_

Instead, she turned and walked away with her head held high.

_You gotta get up and  
__Try, try, try  
__You gotta get up and  
__Try, try, try_

**TBC**

**A/N 2** – Song used is _Try_ by P!nk.


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

A full moon blotted the ink-black sky, its presence a glaring, luminous sphere of unapologetic silver-white. It shone down on dilapidated London, skittering shafts of ghostly-white light along slanted rooftops and igniting the outlines of ruined and crumbling tombstones that were once proud, tall corporate buildings and apartments.

Eric Northman hovered before one such building. Dangling several feet in the air, with the front of his body encased in shadow and the back painted with moonlight, the Viking vampire was a surreal sight to behold. However, no one who lived in London long enough would have been foolish to wander the streets of the neighborhood the hovering vampire was currently occupying. Especially not at the Twilight hour where the corners of alleyways spat out humans with less than honorable intentions and creatures who would have liked nothing more than to pick off victims with their claws or teeth.

Eric's face was amassed with a complicated amalgamation of disgust, bewilderment and frank disbelief as he studied the decrepit building in front of him. Eyes the color of a wild, Northern winter sea narrowed as he zeroed in on the one window with a broken windowpane. The blonde vampire's nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply, his finely tuned senses picking apart the miasma of scents in the air.

There was the recoiling stench of sewage, its presence in the air faint but pungent enough to cause a crease to appear between Eric's blonde brows. He pushed the putrid scent aside and found the cloying odor of a recently deceased body, the metallic aroma of coagulating blood teasing the bloodthirsty warrior within him. His teeth clenched as he too waved that scent aside.

There. Beneath the lingering strands of decaying brick and mortar, the bouquet of sickness and death that draped over London like an overzealous whore would a rich client, Eric caught the barest whiff of lavender and honeysuckle.

Pamela.

Eric moved to the broken window, his keen sense of smell picking up the steadily sharpening fragrance of lavender and honeysuckle along with that underlying sweet strand of vanilla. The Viking found that the window gave him little resistance as he eased a long finger under the rusty latch, deftly unhooking it with a well-practiced flick of his finger.

Eric pulled open the windows, cocked his head momentarily as he sized up the rather small opening into his child's apartment. Seeing no way around it, he simply shrugged and began contorting his lanky body inside…sideways.

Eric's biker boots made not one thud as he landed with a catlike grace onto the hardwood floors. He straightened, turned and closed the window then ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair.

In this decidedly small space, the millennia old vampire's power oozed off him in waves, the walls of the tiny apartment amplifying it until the air around Eric seemed to thrum with electricity, throbbing at a steady, undeniable voltage.

However, it was not Eric's indomitable energy that alerted Pam to his presence. No. It was his scent. Salt and ice. Cool and crisp. Wild. Eric smelled like the untamable Northern sea of his birthplace. It was a scent that Pam would know anywhere, anytime.

Azure blue slit open but Pam barely had the luxury of sitting up in bed before Eric was kneeling before her, grabbing at her shoulders and hauling her bodily to him.

"Pamela." Eric's voice shook with a thousand and one emotions he couldn't even begin to untangle or name. He pressed his face into the side of his child's neck and wept openly, unashamedly.

Upon hearing her maker's wretched sob, Pam's eyes welled with crimson tears. They spilled down her cheeks like ruby rain, staining her alabaster skin and anointing Eric's black motorcycle jacket. She clung to Eric, pale fingers gripping the back of his jacket as though he were the only thing left to keep her afloat and cried softly into his shoulder.

Eric's nails dug into the material of the soft cotton t-shirt that covered Pam's back. His tears drew jagged scarlet lines down Pam's neck, darkening the collar of her t-shirt a rich, dark red. When he felt Pam shift slightly in his arms, he tightened his hold, muscles bulging against the confines of his leather jacket as he crushed Pam to him, almost smothering her.

It was a good thing that neither vampire needed air because whilst Eric held Pam in a death grip, Pam's own embrace around her maker was nearly as fatal. Arms of ivory twined around the Viking like twin boa constrictors, compressing his ribs to an almost painful degree as she hugged him for all she was worth.

Maker and progeny stayed in each other's arms for long moments, neither willing to relinquish the brutal hold they had on the other, neither willing to be the first to let go. They simply clung to each, ruining their respective garments of leather and cotton with their crimson tears and clenching fingers.

It was only when Pam winced under the unforgiving pressure of Eric's fingers on her back that Eric pulled back, albeit reluctantly. He didn't go far, simply retreated back enough to allow a thin crack of space between them.

"Pamela."

The way Eric breathed out Pam's name in that dejected, brokenhearted tone of voice sent two new twin rivulets of red to join its predecessors down Pam's cheeks. She reached for Eric, for her maker, her father, her brother, her son, but Eric beat her to it.

"Pamela." He sounded so broken, so utterly defeated as he cupped her blood-stained face between his sword-calloused hands. "_Mitt barn_."

Pam's eyes closed involuntarily as Eric's fingers began to roam across her face. Calloused fingers were openly proprietary as they walked down Pam's jawline, up and over bee-stung lips and traced the juts of prominent cheekbones. They tracked the arch of pale eyebrows, followed the hairline to Pam's left temple, ran the pads of both thumbs over closed eyelids then dragged a lone finger down the slope of Pam's nose. The large palm that finally alighted with aching gentleness on her left cheek bespoke of possession. It was a territorial act and an unapologetic one at that but Pam, who ordinarily balked from such open displays of ownership from anyone but Tara, allowed it. In fact, she more than allowed it, she _welcomed_ it. With relish.

"Eric." The Viking's name fell past Pam's lips like a reverent prayer as she leaned almost subconsciously into her maker's touch, sighing as his other hand returned to mapping out a mental blueprint of the feature of her face.

No more words were exchanged between maker and progeny as Eric continued to rememorize his child with his fingers and eyes. The yearn to touch Pam, to feel flesh and bone and blood beneath his fingers was so overwhelming that even after he had traced every contour of Pam's face thrice, he found that he couldn't find it in himself to remove his palm from where it now rested on his progeny's cheek.

Pam opened her eyes, revealing an electric shade of cobalt blue when she felt Eric still next to her. Her gaze ran smack dab into her maker's face and she couldn't help but wince when Eric confronted her with a perplexing look that was simultaneously enraged, miserable, unhappy, dumbfounded and above all, indescribably pained.

"Eric?" Pam flinched at the sound of her own voice. It was so silent in the room, so quiet between her and Eric that even her quiet rasp was akin to a gun going off. She swallowed, forced herself to look into her maker's desolate sea blue-green gaze. "_Fader…_"

"You are malnourished." Verbalizing this seemed to physically pain Eric for his entire body recoiled almost violently upon hearing his own bold admission. He tensed, looked away for fractions of a second before he returned to lock his now granite gaze onto Pam's. "You promised me you would take care of yourself," he accused. The hand that was on Pam's cheek moved down to grip her chin. The hold was firm yet gentle and he used it to keep Pam's eyes locked on his when she tried to look away in shame. "You _promised_," he reminded her, his voice an anguished rasp, his face crumbling in agony as tortured eyes traced Pam's all too thin silhouette.

Pam choked back a sob. "I tried," was her feeble answer. When Eric returned to cupping her cheek, she leaned almost desperately into his touch, shuddering in relief as he played long fingers over her smooth, soft alabaster skin. "I tried, Eric and that's the best I can give you."

Eric made a disparaging noise in his throat even as he blinked rapidly to stave off another onslaught of tears that threatened to paint his already blood-stained cheeks with a new coating of crimson. He slid forward on his knees until he was pressed up against the side of the bed. Then he leaned forward and pressed cool lips to his child's forehead, lingering long enough to allow himself to indulge in the comforting scent of lavender and honeysuckle. A scent he did not realize how much he had missed until he was almost greedily taking in gulps of it. "You foolish girl," he murmured as he turned to press a kiss to her temple. "You absolutely foolish girl." He pressed a kiss into her hair to take the sting out of his words.

"Don't even pretend that you didn't have people watching me," Pam groused even as she relaxed under Eric's insistent affections. "You probably had them giving you weekly reports," she pointed out bluntly when Eric finally pulled back to scrutinize his progeny with a critical blue-green look.

"I said I would let you go. I didn't say I would stop keeping an eye on you." Cool, unrepentant words. They breezed out of Eric's mouth with no shred of hesitation, his dogged expression reflecting nothing but resoluteness.

Pam nodded but didn't say anymore. Instead, she reciprocated Eric's need to touch, reaching up to lay claim on Eric's now shoulder-length hair. Long, supple fingers carded gently through the silky blonde strands, marveling at its softness and texture. An indulgent smile tugged at the corners of Pam's lips when she caught sight of Eric closing his eyes in abject pleasure, his head bending slightly to allow Pam better access. It was a well-kept secret between them, Eric's love for having his hair stroked. Pam was reminded of this as Eric nudged further into her gently massaging fingers against his scalp, a sigh of contentment escaping unbidden from his lips.

The Viking, still kneeling by the side of the bed, took advantage of his currently subservient position and laid his head on Pam's blanket covered lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his nose into her t-shirt covered belly, his posture instantly going pliant as Pam reached down to cup the back of his bowed head momentarily.

Pam smiled down fondly at her maker, her fingers never stopping their quest through Eric's mop of silky flaxen hair that was so similar to her own. It was times like this that Pam missed with Eric; times when it was just her and her maker and Eric dropped his bravado, his suave front, becoming someone who not only allowed affection, but craved it. This was the Eric few were privy to and even after centuries, the blonde was always honored and awed when Eric would drop his guard to such a degree around her.

Neither spoke as they simply stayed in their current positions, basking in each other's presence after a fifty year estrangement. Eric was so still where he knelt with his head on her lap that for a moment, Pam thought that he had dozed off. Her theory was quickly disavowed however, when Eric lifted his head, revealing a pair of unreadable blue-green eyes. They regarded Pam intently and she returned his scrutiny with an open, honest gaze, unwilling to hide anything from the man who had essentially gave her life.

When Eric's eyes skidded sideways then over Pam's shoulder, Pam couldn't help but follow his visual trajectory. Her body twisted, rearranging her position on the bed to reveal a sleeping Tara.

"She brings you such sorrow." There was no heat of accusation behind Eric's soft words. It was simply an observation, a fact.

_There were nights when the wind was so cold  
__That my body froze in bed  
__If I just listened to it right outside the window_

Pam sighed heavily as she allowed her eyes to trace the profile of Tara's sleeping body. She remembered, all too clearly just how much sorrow her own progeny brought her.

_There were days when the sun was so cruel  
__That all the tears turned to dust  
__And I just knew my eyes were drying up forever_

One particular memory came to mind; not the memory that had set of a chain of events that led Pam to where she was now.

No. That episode was done and dusted. It was buried and it was going to stay buried.

What came to Pam's mind was a recent event. An event that was still painfully fresh and all too raw. A fresh and raw memory that still haunted her every dream for it was a memory that served as a reminder of how close Pam was to having her heart broken all over again.

xxxxxxxx

_A frigid wind knocked into Tara from the left, tugging mercilessly at her loose sable hair and whipping its icy fingers almost viciously across her cheek as she stood by the Thames, obsidian eyes watching Pam walk away._

I finished crying in the instant that you left  
And I can't remember where or when or how  
And I banished every memory you and I had ever made

_Something inside of Tara snapped and broke when the shadows that made up the side street swallowed Pam in darkness. All Tara caught was a last glimpse of golden-blonde hair glinting off a ray of moonlight before the dark of the street engulfed the blonde and obscured her from view._

But when you touch me like this

_A memory of Pam trailing kisses down her neck slammed into her with all the grace and force of a freight train. Tara suppressed a sob, her eyes of pitch never leaving their spot across the street where Pam once stood._

And you hold me like that

_Another memory of when Pam pulled her into her arms, holding her close just because she wanted to feel Tara tucked against her sent a tremor to rattle the bones beneath Tara's flesh._

I just have to admit  
It's all coming back to me now

_Tara wanted to move, she __**needed**__ to move. And yet her booted feet stayed rooted to the pavement, her legs fiendish adversaries that seemed hellbent on making sure Tara remain in a state of animated suspension._

When I touch you like this

_A crimson tear trailed a lazy red path down an ebony-hued cheek as another memory barreled into Tara's mind eye. It was one of Tara dragging her fingers down Pam's bare back, leaving a trail of gooseflesh and visible shudders._

And I hold you like that

_Another memory, this one of Tara cradling Pam as she slept, the blonde looking deceivingly angelic and devastatingly beautiful in the soft muted light of their bedroom._

It's so hard to believe  
But it's all coming back to me now

_Tara was trembling now. She shook so violently that even to the average human's eyes, it looked as though she were have an epileptic fit. Another gust of wind snarled at Tara, curling around her like a moaning, wounded beast, licking icy tendrils across her cheeks in a manner so spiteful that Tara half expected for lacerations to appear across her face._

There were moments of gold  
And there were flashes of light

_Memories were running rampant across Tara's eyes now, like a film reeling on fast forward. Visions of Pam laughing, her face practically glowing with joy. Snippets of the two of them frolicking on an empty beach in California. A picture of Pam standing before her, telling her she loved her. Loved her with her heart, her soul, her very being. _

_A sob ripped itself out of Tara's throat, dispelling into the air after a brief moment where the sound echoed like a gunshot before the howling wind swallowed it whole._

There were nights of endless pleasure  
It was more than any laws allowed

_Images of them making love by the fire; Pam on top of Tara panting nonsensical words into her lover's ear even as her fingers stroked the fire between Tara's legs into a raging inferno. Tara between Pam's legs, mouth attached to the blonde's most intimate area as Pam writhed and arched and bucked. Pam straddling Tara's legs, mouth suctioned onto Tara's neck, drinking from her even as her fingers were buried knuckle deep inside of the younger vampire. Tara taking Pam from behind, the phallus buried to the hilt inside of Pam, Tara forcing it deeper still by grabbing a fistful of golden-blonde hair and Pam screaming out her pleasure in response._

_Tara was crying openly now and crying __**hard**__. _

But If I kiss you like this

_A vision of Tara brushing her lips against Pam's cheek._

And you whisper like that

"_Tara," Pam husked as she reached for her lover's hand. "Tara…"_

It was lost long ago  
But it's all coming back to me now

_Tara was falling, memories of her life with Pam flashing like a relentless movie before her eyes. Her body trembled, her eyes bled and her heart was hurting so badly in the confines of her chest that she itched to carve a hole in her chest just to yank the offending organ out._

It was dead long ago  
But it's all coming back to me now

"_Pam…" Tara's voice was barely audible amidst the now shrieking wind that swirled around her with malicious intent, mocking her, taunting her. _

It's so hard to resist  
But it's all coming back to me now

_Tara found that she had taken a step forward; found that her body had finally found that kernel of reason, of strength, of conviction to take that one crucial step._

I can barely recall  
But it's all coming back to me now  
It's all coming back to me now

"_PAMELA!"_

_xxxx_

_Pam turned just in time to see an ebony blur beelining towards her before she was almost knocked off her feet as Tara collided headlong into her. Instinct had her digging her heels into the ground and her arms opening. They drew a sobbing Tara into her, then enclosed around the younger vampire's shaking back._

_It was reminiscent of how they came to have their first kiss, the way Tara ran into her. Just as she did then, burning herself on that silver door before rushing into Pam's arms like she had been starved of the blonde's touch for longer than she could bear, Tara ran into Pam now, almost collapsing against her when she felt those thin but strong ivory arms twine around her. _

"_I've got you," Pam soothed as she gripped Tara to her. "I've got you."_

_Tara sobbed, her entire body heaving and quaking under the force of her cries. She pulled back, grabbed for Pam's face then slanted her lips over the blonde's. _

_The meeting of their lips burned them both. On this cold, crisp London night, the kiss they shared in that dark, unlit street scorched away every nugget of guilt each party harbored. It seared away decades of pain, cauterized the bleeding wounds that retched blood, sorrow and misery from its puckered lips on their hearts and souls. It enveloped the pair in warmth, in heat, in comfort. It singed and charred and cleansed every last iota of hurt, of heartache, of uncertainty, of doubt until there was nothing left between them but ashes and dust._

_And it was from these ashes and dust that the seeds of new life, new hope, new start could be sown._

_Pam tapered off the kiss, tasting on her lips, the combined metallic tangs of both their blood-tears. She reached down, grasped Tara's hand then lifted it to press the flat of Tara's palm to the spot above her breastbone. _

"_You're here," she declared, her voice husky with tears, with hope, with conviction. She felt Tara's fingers splay over her sweater, felt the tremor that wracked her body when the dark-skinned vampire failed to pick up that faint hum of the bond. "You're __**here**__," Pam insisted, pressing Tara's hand more firmly against her chest. She locked a blood-rimmed blue gaze onto twin pools of shimmering onyx, her gaze never wavering, never faltering as she spoke. "You've __**always**__ been in here," Pam affirmed, looking deep into Tara's eyes. "Bond or no bond, Tara. You're with me. Always."_

_Tara released another gut-wrenching sob, clutched at Pam's sweater then nodded. _

_Pam released Tara's hand then palmed her cheek. Backing Tara gently up against the nearest wall, Pam brushed her lips fleetingly across Tara's. "I love you," she murmured around the kiss. "I love you. I love you. I love you." Each declaration was punctuated with another brush of lips against lips until they were both trembling like leaves in the wind._

"_Pam…" Tara's voice was hoarse, her Southern lilt jangling with fear and her expression flickering between petrified and want. "Pamela…"_

_Pam shook her head, reached up with her other hand then held Tara's face between both her palms. "I love you." She sealed it with a lingering kiss to Tara's kiss-swollen lips. "I love you." Her own bruised lips grazed Tara's cheek. "I love you." She dropped a reverent kiss over each closed eyelid. "I love you." Another kiss to her forehead. Then another to each of Tara's temples before Pam traced an imaginary path with her lips down Tara's cheek and back to parted lips. "I love you." She confirmed this with a searing kiss that threatened to set them both aflame._

_When Pam finally pulled back, she simply stared at Tara, one hand still resting on her progeny's cheek. The blonde's expression was open, naked, honest as she looked unflinchingly into Tara's dark gaze. _

"_I love you."_

_Tara's eyes filled with renewed tears. They spilled down her cheeks, staining the ebony skin a dark crimson. She opened her mouth to say something, anything but Pam shook her head once more._

"_No." The hand Pam had on Tara's cheek moved down to cradle her chin. She lifted it, gently closing Tara's mouth. "Don't say anything," Pam whispered. There was no vulnerability in her voice, no note of questioning Tara's intentions. Only trust. Patience. There was no demand in her voice, in her eyes. No hidden agenda. Nothing. Pam placed a solitary finger against Tara's lips, looked into Tara's eyes and said, "Just come home. Come home with me."_

xxxxxxxx

"She also brings me joy."

Pam had been so quiet after Eric's verbal observation about Tara that he jumped slightly when his progeny's low rasp tickled his ears. He looked at her, noted the steadfast belief of her own words on her face.

"I know." He couldn't dispute her claim; he had seen how happy Tara made Pam, felt the love they had for each other like a physical entity.

"I love her, Eric."

"I know." Another admission he had no right or ability to deny. "And she loves you." Eric reached out and smoothed an errant strand of blond hair away from Pam's cheek.

"She does." A soft smile graced Pam's lips and Eric's heart clenched at the sight of it as he remembered the last person who had given him such a smile.

The Viking spared a thought for his own love, who was now nothing more than dust in the ground. Sookie Stackhouse. Simple yet complicated. Enchanting yet infuriating. Stubborn to a fault. She wouldn't let him turn her, outright refused. And because he loved her, loved her with every fiber of his being, he acquiesced to her wishes. He watched over her, watched her grow old, watched her draw her last breath. He buried her with tears in his eyes and a broken heart in his chest.

When the last of the dirt had been patted down onto Sookie's grave, Eric swore he would never again cry over a woman, never let his heart be that vulnerable to emotional barbs.

Pam had managed to prove him wrong on both counts.

"Tara said you'd come," Pam spoke again, her husky drawl drawing Eric back to the present.

He nodded, the act sending tufts of blonde hair to tumble over a high forehead. He pushed the strands back with an absentminded brush of his fingers. "I had to see you were well taken care of."

"I am," Pam replied. She looked up at Eric, who in turned looked down at her with a soft expression he reserved only for his progeny. "What would you have done, had she walked away?" the blonde asked softly, though deep down she already knew the answer.

"I would have killed her." Eric's sea blue-green eyes bore no apology as he bluntly gave his answer.

Pam's fangs dropped before she was aware of it doing so. The subtle click alerted her to this new development and she briefly hung her head in shame before she returned to meeting Eric's unashamed gaze, her own a contradictory mixture of hatred, remorse, resignation and pain.

"I would have never forgiven you," she finally whispered, her voice ragged with anguish at the thought of severing all ties with her maker. Pam was silent as she struggled with an internal war, Eric's words adding to the seemingly never-ending list of demons that haunted and nipped ceaselessly at her heels. finally, unable to do anything, she forced her fangs to retract and forced down the bubbling whorls of rage that had been unleashed in wake of Eric's confession.

"I know," Eric murmured, feeling only the slightly twinge of guilt and remorse as he observed Pam wrestle with a myriad of turbulent emotions his answer had invoked in her. Wanting to sooth her turmoil, he reached back up and coiled a lock of blonde hair around his finger, sifting the silky strands through his finger and thumb. "But I would have been willing to learn to live with your disappointment in me." He released the lock of hair to smooth his hand down the side of Pam's cheek, smiling slightly when she leaned into his touch. "You are my child," he affirmed quietly but with steely conviction. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, even if it meant you hating me."

Pam nodded, not having expected anything less from her maker. She reached up and plucked Eric's hand off her cheek then tangled her fingers with his, gently playing with them.

They were silent for a few more moments before Eric stirred. "Dawn approaches," he informed unnecessarily. He moved to sit on the side of the bed then leaned over to kiss Pam's cheek. "I should go." He reached down and dug a hand into his jeans' pocket, coming back up with a single key dangling between his fingers. Wordlessly he held it out to Pam.

"Eric?" Pam took the proffered item but when Eric remained suspiciously silent, a pale brow arched though the blonde's expression was patient.

"It's the key to a cabin a few hours outside of Stockholm," Eric finally explained. "Up in the mountains." He spared a quick glance at the still sleeping Tara. "It's snowing now. Tara likes the snow."

Pam allowed Eric's words to lift the corners of her mouth before a solemn mask dropped over her face. "Eric…"

"Take it," Eric demanded, his voice brooking no argument. He spared another glance at Tara. "Start over," he continued, his voice taking on a softer inflection. "Find each other again. Rekindle your passions. Cherish each other."

Pam's eyes filled with tears. She leaned forward and folded herself into Eric's waiting arms. "_Jag älskar dig_, Eric," Pam whispered fiercely into his neck. _I love you, Eric._

Eric held Pam to her, unhappy that she was still of slight weight but satisfied that she was on the road to recovery. "_Jag älskar dig också_,_ mitt barn_," he whispered back. _I love you too, my child._ There was a slight sting emanating from his eyes and with a start, he realized that tears had accumulated at the corner of his eyes. Again. He blinked them away.

"Don't you ever do this to me again, Pam," Eric admonished quietly when he pulled back. He reached out and cupped the blonde's face in his hands, thumbing away residual tears that clung to her cheeks. "I have been out of my mind with worry." The Viking had lost track of the number of times he had wanted to throw in the towel and come barging into London to haul Pam bodily back to the US. But he had promised to let her go and for Pam, for his one and only progeny, Eric would always keep his word.

"I'm sorry," Pam murmured. She sighed then gently drew back from Eric's touch. She cast a sidelong glance at Tara. "Would you like me to wake her?"

Eric followed her visual path, studied the sleeping vampire for a few moments before he shook his head. "She kept her end of the bargain." His eyes flashed with dark promise as he said, "Let's hope she perseveres in her love for you." He returned his gaze to Pam. "I cannot promise to be as lenient the next time."

"There won't be a next time."

Maker and progeny turned in tandem to find Tara suddenly animated. She sat up, sheets the color of twilight pooling at her waist as she ran a hand through her tousled hair.

"How long have you been awake?" Pam asked softly. The urge to curl up against Tara's side was fierce but she quelled it, knowing that they both had to learn to walk before they could run, let alone fly. Tara was still skittish at best, still relearning what it was like to be touched without having to reciprocate, without thinking that the touch demanded something from her. So Pam settled for a gentle smile, a genuine quirk of her lips as she recalled Tara's words to Eric.

"Since the Viking decided to Houdini himself into the apartment via the window," Tara drawled quietly as she suppressed a yawn, dawn's approach making her body resistant to being awake. She allowed herself a brief reprieve by staring into Pam's steady Sapphire tinged gaze, allowed Pam to sooth and reassure her with but a simple look that asked nothing from Tara. It almost worked until she felt the heavy weight of Eric's stare on her. With a sigh, Tara ran a resigned hand back through her her before she turned her own unyielding gaze of pitch onto the Viking. "You couldn't use the front door like everyone else?" she couldn't help but jibe, her defenses rising quickly to the forefront.

"I'm not everyone else," Eric retorted, his tone unrepentant. He was itching to verbally whip Tara a new one but the heat of Pam's stare on the side of his head forced him to reconsider. He hesitated, long enough for Tara's jaw to clench and her shoulders to tense but then he stood, flowing to his feet with a flawless grace that only an immortal would be able to achieve. Smoothing a hand down Pam's hair, he have her another lingering kiss to her forehead. "I have to go. Be safe."

Pam, not wanting an all out fight to start between her maker and her progeny but unwilling to let their all too brief reunion conclude, grabbed for Eric's hand. "_Fader_." One word. Beseeching.

Eric cupped Pam's cheek. "I won't be far," he reassured her quietly. "I'll check in on you soon."

The Viking played long fingers down Pam's cheek, soaked in the visual of her into his memories then turned and exited the way he came in.

Silence lorded between Pam and Tara as they sat somewhat awkwardly on the bed. When the whir of the light-tight shutters announced its descent as well as the approaching of dawn, Tara finally voiced aloud her thoughts.

"I'm scared."

There was such aching vulnerability in Tara's voice, such terror that it broke Pam's heart. Giving into the need to touch her progeny, Pam turned and ran her knuckles down a smooth, soft ebony cheek. "I know you are," she revealed, her voice marred with similar worries. "I am too."

_If you forgive me all this_

"I don't want to hurt you. Please don't let me hurt you," Tara choked out, blinking back tears that were stinging her eyes. She clutched at the bed sheets that pooled at her waist, wrinkling the material between her tightly clenched fingers.

Pam's cerulean blue eyes were steadfast and calm as they sought out pain-filled and uncertain orbs of obsidian. "You gave me forever once," the blonde began. She reached down, took Tara's hand and laced their fingers together.

_If I forgive you all that_

Blue eyes were iridescent with conviction as they bore into pools of midnight. "Let me give it back to you." When Pam felt Tara's fingers grip around her own with an almost desperate force, she squeezed back just as hard and bestowed upon Tara a soft, gentle smile.

"Let me give you forever."

_We forgive and forget  
__And it's all coming back to me  
__It's all coming back to me now_

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N** – Song used is _It's All Coming Back To Me Now_ by Meat Loaf. And yes, there is a Celine Dion version. Both are fantastic in their own right and both versions are what inspired this last installment of the trilogy as well as its title.

I want to thank each and every one of you who has so openly supported my work and especially this story. I know I put you guys through hell repeatedly reading this universe of Pam and Tara and I am beyond grateful that you stuck through with it. I know the ending may not be what some of you were hoping for but this was the way I envisioned it to end. The goal of this last installment was to get Pam and Tara back together and to leave it somewhat open ended. So, I'm sorry if I disappointed some of you with this ending but thank you for reading anyway. And as always, thank you for your feedback and reviews; they really helped me to shape each chapter of this story.


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